


Nothing Is Exempt

by dionysus_bound



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Brainwashing, Conditioning, Dubious Consent, Finger Sucking, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Obedience, Past Abuse, Post-Season/Series 01, Power Dynamics, belt spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-17 03:42:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2295440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dionysus_bound/pseuds/dionysus_bound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garrett and Cybertek conditioned and controlled Ward from the time he was a teenager.  Now that he's out of their hands, he needs a new controller. Fitz is the only option.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hand-waved Fitz’s injury, and also his declaration of feelings for Simmons  
> Pretty much also hand-waved science and psychology principals

Fitz sank down into the couch cushion, trying to get comfortable after hours in the same position.

The team had appropriated some of Cybertek's files from the compound before Colonel Talbot descended on it. Fury's little box of tricks had also given Coulson contacts and leverage which opened a few doors. Unfortunately, the data they had gotten their hands on was a mish-mash of digital, paper and video. All heavily coded and encrypted.

One of the Playground's labs had been rearranged to accommodate the sprawl and organized chaos while they worked through it bit by bit. One table was completely taken over by monitors and laptops and various bits and pieces of computers while Skye worked on decrypting the digital and video recors.

A second table was piled with carefully stacked and organized paper files that May and Billy worked their code-breaking magic on.

Fitz, Jemma, Coulson and Tripp had dragged a couple of couches and a low table into the room and sprawled out while they sorted through the files that had already been decoded.

Coulson and Tripp got anything to do with HYDRA's long range plans, strategy, politics and military programs.

Jemma tackled the bio-medical files with an increasingly disgusted frown of disapproval, while Fitz found himself both excited and horrified by the experiments and technical advances Cybertek had been pursuing.

On the one hand, what they'd accomplished was groundbreaking and beautiful, in theory. On the other, the means and complete lack of ethics or empathy left him cold and terrified at what they might unleash on the world.

Fitz tilted his head back against the couch and pinched the bridge of his nose, giving his eyes and his brain a rest for a moment. When he lifted his head again, Jemma was staring at him, lip caught between her teeth while she studied him with unabashed concern.

He sighed and tried not to glare at her, focusing instead on the file in front of him. Yes, he'd been in a coma for a couple of weeks. Thanks to Fury's intervention, Jemma's brilliance and the miracle of SHIELD's advanced bio-medical tech, he was  _fine_.

The exhaustion and occasional headaches had more to do with the past month's worth of non-stop days. Hours of sorting through horrifying HYDRA files punctuated by occasional, terrifying forays out in the field to deal with some of the Fridge's escapees or HYDRA's latest scheme.

He wasn't the only one feeling the strain, either. Skye had permanent frown lines etched between her eyebrows, if Tripp's posture got any tenser, he might snap in two and Coulson looked like he hadn't slept a full night in weeks.

Fitz tilted his head to glance around the room. Everyone showed signs of stress and exhaustion. Maybe he should try to redirect Jemma's intense need to coddle onto one of them. May caught him glancing in her direction and raised an eyebrow at him.

Her simple expression shouldn't be terrifying. Yet… maybe Skye would be a better place to focus Jemma's attention. He was still trying to think of a casual way to suggest it when Coulson made a hard, choking sound, then muttered, "Well, damn."

"Damn? Damn what?" Skye asked, spinning around to face him.

"There's a bomb."

"What kind of bomb?"

"Where?"

"When?"

Coulson held up a hand and waited for the deluge of questions to fall into silence before speaking."

"I don't know where it is, other than buried beneath a major city. There aren't any specific details, just mention of a super-secret plan, cutely named Operation: Revelation, to be used in case of a HYDRA crisis. Either to ransom their way back into power and money or to use as a show of intent and strength."

"Why haven't they used it already?" Tripp asked.

"Apparently, only a small group knew where it was hidden. Even fewer had the ignition code. Garrett and Pierce among them."

"Well, they're dead," Skye said. "Hopefully whoever else knew it is dead, too."

She winced at her own callous words and added, "Or, at least, on the run and too busy to think about the bomb."

"Is there any clue as to where it is?" May asked.

"No. Hence the super-secret part."

"If Garrett knew, Ward might know," she suggested and the familiar curl of pained disillusionment twisted in Fitz's chest, the way it always did when someone mentioned Ward. Despite everything, he'd wanted to believe in his friend. And, a small part of him still wanted to.

"Ward hasn't said a word to anyone since he was taken into custody."

"They haven't let me interrogate him, yet," May muttered. Coulson gave her a glance that was both reprimanding and sympathetic but he didn't respond.

"We need to concentrate on trying to find any more information we can on the location of this bomb. We'll need to re-prioritize the files we're going through and see if we can find some kind of trail."

#

The next few days found the team pushing even harder, trying to find any detail or mention of the bomb in the already decrypted files, while Skye, May and Koenig continued to work on freeing the information still trapped by codes and electronic locks.

It was late, the room silent except for the hum of equipment when Skye's startled "Oh," echoed through the room.

All eyes snapped toward her and Coulson asked, "Did you find something about Operation: Revelation?"

"Uh, not exactly," her voice sounded strangled and freaked out enough everyone moved closer to see out what was wrong.Skye's monitors were filled with a grainy video of Garrett and a teenage boy in some rustic cabin.

Fitz squinted and then his breath stopped, confusion and revulsion clogging his throat.

Ward. The kid on his knees, begging for forgiveness and promising to do better was Ward. Garrett's smirk was cruel and his words were vicious and scathing. Then he reached for his belt, grin twisting into something vile. He was, he—

Fitz turned his head, gagging. Jemma stumbled back and Skye dropped her head into her hands. Coulson reached in front of her, tapped a few keys until a wall of scrolling text replaced the disturbing video.

Finally forcing himself to breathe again, Fitz let words jump out despite thinking better of it. "What was that?"

Skye, furious and horrified lifter her head and pointed to the screen.

"They targeted Ward. He was someone with potential skills they could hone. Someone vulnerable to experimental psych conditioning. They lied to him about his family, made him feel completely alone in the world. Isolated him until Garrett was his only human contact. Made him feel gratitude and allegiance toward the son-of-a-bitch."

"Simmons. I know it won't be particularly pleasant reading but can you figure out what they did to him."

Jemma swallowed hard, but nodded and stepped up to sit shoulder to shoulder with Skye.

May examined the screen, expression blank, then tilted her head, drawing Coulson to a quiet corner of the room. Unwilling to risk seeing any more details than were burned into his brain,  Fitz let his eyes follow them, instead.

"If we could deprogram Ward," May whispered. "We might be able to get him to help us find the bomb."

Fitz stared at her in horror before crossing the room and snarling, "Are you that much of a cold hearted bitch? Skye just told us they stole Ward's entire life and all you can think about is how we can use him?"

She lifted one shoulder looking completely unconcerned and the edge of  Fitz's vision went red with fury.

Coulson put his hand on Fitz's shoulder and squeezed. "We are going to find a way to help Ward, no matter what. But if we can help save hundreds of thousands of people, we have a responsibility to them, too. We will find a way to deprogram Ward, one way or another."

"Uh, it may not be that easy." Jemma wrinkled her nose when attention focused on her.

"What's the problem?"

"Well, Ward was part of a program that systematically trained subjects to be obedient and loyal to a specific  _mentor._ Garrett used classic conditioning and brainwashing techniques. Isolation, extreme conditions, a rotation of pleasure/pain, reward/punishment, small amounts of praise interspersed with large amounts of negative feedback. Unfortunately, that's not all."

"What else?" Coulson asked, resignation vibrating in his voice.

"They contaminated the fresh water spring near his camp with an experimental drug that made the conditioning process easier and more effective. Extremely effective. Nearly unbreakable."

"You're saying he can't be deprogrammed?" May asked.

"Possibly. Ward was only one of many they experimented on this way. Some of them they later tested to see what kind of counter-conditioning the process could stand up to. The results were…."

"Bad?" Tripp interjected.

Jemma winced. "Depends on your perspective. Cybertek found the results encouraging. Fifty percent completely resisted all attempts at deprogramming."

"So, then, fifty percent actually were deprogrammed, fight?" Skye said, eyes bright with excitement and hope.

"Not exactly. The other fifty percent develop a variety of  psychoses and violent tendencies. One woman jumped off a bridge, a male operative entered an embassy and opened fired. The rest all had to be institutionalized. The ones HYDRA didn't kill outright, that is."

Shock plunged the room into silence, everyone staring at their hands or the walls, not willing to look at each other.

Finally, Fitz cleared his throat, the lump lodged there, still making his words come out hoarse and rough.

"There's no hope of helping Ward, then?"

Jemma shifted from foot to foot.

"There was another trial group. A small number of subjects whose initial  _mentor_  was killed or became undesirable were studied to see if their loyalty could be…" she paused, searching for the right word. "Reassigned, I suppose. It didn't require the drug or the same intense isolation and conditioning, but it still involved systematic attachment protocols. The initial program seems to have created an intense need for a mentor. There was about an 80% success rate for those individuals. The common factor among successful cases was the subject had at least a nominal amount of trust in the new mentor before the re-programming started."

"Ward doesn't trust anyone." Skye sounded both depressed and angry when she said what they all were thinking.

"Maybe not," Coulson murmured, looking around at the group eyes hesitating on Skye. "But he might just surprise us."

#

Ward lay on the tiny, rock hard bunk, tucked away in his tiny, ascetic cell and let the aches of his body wash over him. Ribs, jaw, head. It all throbbed in counterpoint to one another.

He had to give Talbot's men credit, though. They were pretty good at causing pain without actually breaking anything. Too bad for them, he'd learned to endure pain and torture at the hands of a master.

He forced his eyes closed but knew sleep wasn't coming anytime soon. Every time he tried to escape the pain and the reality, he remembered Garrett's sneer. Or Skye's righteous anger. Or the yearning, still hopeful look on Fitz's face when Ward pushed the button.

No, sleep was meant for those who didn't have a lifetime of failure weighing them down. The most he could hope for was the foggy cloud of exhaustion obscuring the darkest of his sins. The worst wasn't the confinement or the pain or even the doubts creeping in that maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe Garrett had not been the salvation he'd always believed in wholeheartedly.

No, the worst was the complete lack of direction he felt. Paralyzed by indecision when he had no orders. No over-arching goal or directive. Should he meekly accept his lot? Should he fight? Escape? Give up?

The cell door banged open and two guards pulled him from his bunk, snapping on heavy chains at wrist, waist and ankle before dragging him down the hallway.

Huh. It didn't feel like time for interrogation, round two of the day. Maybe they were getting as bored of the predictability as he was and decided to mix things up a bit.

The room they dragged him into wasn't one he'd seen yet, but comfortably familiar in universal blandness. Plain walls, single heavy table, a couple of uncomfortable looking chairs and CCTV camera's in every corner to record it all.

This one had a tile floor rather than a cement one that sloped to a drain, like the room they'd been 'questioning' him in for the past few weeks. Once the guards had his restraint's secured to the table, however, they left him alone in the room.

Looked like they were trying to shake things up. Maybe he was supposed to be so grateful not to be beaten, he'd just spill everything he knew.

Ward leaned back in his chair and stared at one of the cameras, face blank and posture as relaxed as he could make it with the pain pulling at his ribs.

When the door finally opened, he managed to hide his surprise, but just barely. Coulson was the last person he'd expected to walk through it.

"Hello, Ward." The smile Coulson gave him was strained around the edges but looked sincere. It didn't matter, though.

He did his best to ignore his former boss, focusing on a spot over Coulson's right shoulder when he sat down across from Ward, setting the tablet he held on the table in front of him. Avoiding eye contact made it easier to keep his feelings locked away.

"You're looking… well, I guess you know how you look." Coulson's voice held that hint of sarcasm that used to mean camaraderie. Apparently, he thought appealing to Ward's nostalgia might work where beatings hadn't.

"The team is doing well, in case you're wondering. May and Tripp are out hunting down another fugitive. They make a good team. May still hates your guts, though. In case you were wondering."

Ward ignored the bait and the pause that followed it before Coulson sighed and continued.

"Skye's doing well. She's making mincemeat of Cybertek's encryptions. We should have access to all the files we've obtained very, very soon."

What did it matter to Ward, now? His part in the silent war between HYDRA and the world was over. He'd spend the rest of his life in prisons like this one.

"Oh, and Fitz and Simmons, well…" Coulson dragged out the last word and Ward couldn't stop himself from snapping his head back to stare at Coulson. His heart hammered in his chest, the icy disinterest he'd cultivated disappearing under a heated rush of panic. He needed to know, but was terrified to hear.

The narrowed, considering eyes made him realized he'd given too much away and he twisted to stare blankly at the spot behind Coulson again. It was too late though. No matter what had happened to them, what Ward had done, he'd have to live with it.

He'd wanted to disobey Garrett, but he couldn't defy him. He hadn't been able to bring himself to kill them, himself, either. Though, it probably would have been kinder than what he'd done. The only choice he could make was to give them a chance to genius their way out of it. It hadn't been much of a chance, but he'd clung to the hope they'd somehow managed.

"They're alive. And working hard to put an end to HYDRA."

Ward closed his eyes and took a deep shuttering breath. Didn't bother to try and conceal it before returning his attention to the spot on the wall that looked like every other one in the room.

"You look relieved."

Ward had to fight hard not to roll his eyes at the obvious. 

Coulson leaned back, loosened his tie and made no pretensions about studying Ward openly.

"Maybe you'd like to make amends. You could help them by giving us some information about Operation: Revelation."

Ward was surprised they'd stumbled on something Garrett and Pierce had played so close to the vest, but he managed to conceal it, this time.

"We need to know where it is, Ward. We need to know how to stop it. You could make up for a lot of your past deeds by saving the millions of people it's endangering."

He wanted to tell. For the first time, he wanted to talk. But he couldn't. Couldn't betray Garrett. Everything in him felt sick, his mind and body both seizing at the thought.

"Okay," Coulson said, resigned and determined. He leaned forward and thumbed on the tablet, scrolling through files before pushing it across the table for Ward to see.

It took Ward a minute to recognize himself. To remember he was ever that young. Then the cabin registered. And Garrett. Once he did, he didn't need the video to remember that moment. Bile rose in his throat, threatening to overwhelm his body while the memory sickened and overwhelmed his thoughts. But he couldn't look away.

On his knees. Pleading. He'd missed a shot. Garrett told him he was worthless. That he was wasting both of their time. Ward had begged for another chance to prove himself, to redeem himself.

When Garrett reached for his belt, Ward shoved the tablet away. He didn't need to see the way he'd choked on Garrett's dick to earn his  _punishment_. Because if he wasn't punished, he couldn't have another chance. But Garrett wasn't sure he was worth the time or effort to bother correcting him.

He didn't need to see the strokes of the belt he'd counted out and asked for. Didn't want to remember how pathetic he felt for not being able to hold back the tears running down his face. The way he'd nearly bit through his lip to stifle the moans of pain and weakness, while Garrett berated him.

Anger burned some of the humiliation away. How had someone managed to record this without him knowing? Why would anyone? The only person who'd even known where he'd been was Garrett.

Garrett. He couldn't… wouldn't…

"What is this?" He demanded, pulling on his chains in an aborted attempt to surge to his feet. "What kind of game are you playing?"

His voice cracked with disuse, sounding pathetic and weak, despite his fury.

Coulson reached over, looking somber and determined and turned off the still playing video.

"No game. At least not one I'm playing. Garrett used Cybertek research and drugs to condition you."

"Bullshit. He wouldn't. He was the only one whoever gave a damn about me."

Coulson tapped on the screen, pulling up a file to replace the video.

"I'm afraid he would. And did. He lied to you about a lot of things."

The tablet slid back in front of him and he read it. He read the litany of Cybertek's 'best practices' for conditioning and fought the urge to gag when he recognized a thousand moments between him and Garrett. Ward had reacted like a fucking textbook case. Every. Fucking. Time.

His cuffs gave him enough leeway to scroll through the horrifying file.

He'd been easy. Not even a challenge. From the first day, there'd been no doubt he'd be a perfect obedient little soldier, dancing to Garrett's every whim.

Ward wanted to throw the hunk of glass and plastic against the wall. Instead, he firmed his lips and leaned back in his chair.

"This can be fixed, right? SHIELD's gone, but some of their de-programmers must still be around."

"I'm afraid not," Coulson shook his head, leaned across the table to bring another file.

Ward didn't want to look. Didn't want to know how thoroughly he'd been used. How thoroughly he'd been fucked over by the only person he'd let himself belief in.

When he was done reading, his heart was hammering in his chest. 

"So, no hope for me, huh? A slave without a master, still dancing to the last orders he gave me."

Coulson's lips thinned out, like he wasn't happy about what he had to say, but he was going to, anyway.

"Deprogramming is dangerous but we might be able to…  _transfer_ your… loyalty to someone else."

"Who? One of Talbot's goons? I think I'd rather take my chances with the de-programmers and the loony bin."

"That's not the way it works. It's only successful if you have a least a little bit of trust in the new mentor to begin with."

Ward gave him a flat stare, waiting for Coulson to get to the punch line and laugh at how screwed he was. It didn't happen, though. Instead Coulson waited in expectant silence until Ward growled out, "I don't trust anyone."

The sigh of exasperation was familiar and somewhat expected.

"Ward. You were wrong, earlier. Garrett didn't give a damn about you. But there is a whole team of people who did before you showed your true colors. Knowing what we know, now, if you show you want to make amends, I think they will again."

It was impossible. He couldn't. No one would want to help him. But he didn't want Garrett to direct the rest of his life. Even now, he wanted to tell Coulson the truth about Operation: Revelation, but everything in him seized up. And he'd made a promise to always be loyal to HYDRA, back when they weren't sure they'd find a cure for Garrett.

If they ever got hold of him. If anyone in the prison was a sleeper Hydra agent, he'd be fucked.

"Not May," he said through gritted teeth. "Not Skye."

He'd never be able to forgive the things he'd done to them and he knew they'd hold a grudge.

"Not you. One SO screwing with my head is enough for one lifetime.

Warm trusting eyes, willing him to do the right thing. Believing Ward would do it right up to the last minute, despite all evidence and Simmons telling him it was a lost cause.

"Fitz."

The name jumped off his lips before he thought it through. Still. If he found a way to trust anyone, Fitz was the only candidate.

Coulson blinked and opened his mouth, then closed it. Apparently, he hadn't been expecting that answer.

"I don't know if he'll do it," Coulson finally said.

"I know."

Ward dropped his head, closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He had no right to ask. No right to burden Fitz with this responsibility after what he'd done. But he would, because, whatever else Garrett had made him, Ward was a survivor. He always had been. He couldn't, change that now.

He heard Coulson stand up and pick up the tablet.

"I'll talk to him. If he agrees, and if I can work through the red tape of all the organizations who want a piece of you, I'll be back in a few days."

Ward didn't bother answer, didn't even lift his head. Just nodded and kept his eyes closed, even after Coulson walked out. Leaving him alone. Again.


	2. Chapter 2

The whole team crowded around Skye's monitor to watch the live feed of Coulson's interviewing Ward, unsure what to expect from their former teammate. When Ward answered Coulson, Fitz blinked at the screen, sure he must have heard wrong.

But Coulson walked out and Ward remained unmoving. Alone. Head down and silent and so very still.

Fitz's mind blanked, stunned and shocked and unable to process what it meant. He expected it to be Coulson. Or Skye. Maybe Tripp or May. Ward can't possibly expect him to… to…

He'd never taken the lead on anything. Even going out into the field had been Jemma's idea. He'd gone along because the lab would have been boring without her. How was he supposed to be any kind of authority? How could he replace Garrett as Ward's mentor?

Everyone shifted uncomfortably around him. He could feel their stares, and the heaviness in the air as everyone left unspoken the same thoughts and doubts he was having.

Finally, Jemma stepped closer, her hand on his arm, gentle and comforting.

"Fitz, you don't have to do this."

"Yeah, Fitz," Skye jumped in. "No one would expect you too after… after…

He wanted to accept the easy out. Walk away before he failed spectacularly, like they all knew he would. Except…

"If I don't, who will?" He asked softly, eyes still locked on the screen where two guards roughly hauled Ward to his feet. "He doesn't trust anyone. Doesn't believe anyone cares enough to have  _his_  best interest at heart."

"This isn't about his best interest," May reminded him sharply. "It's about saving a city. Thousands or millions of innocent lives.

Fitz stubbornly pressed his lips together and finally tore his eyes away from the monitor. He lifted his chin and squared his shoulders while he did his best to stare down May without flinching. Much.

"It's about both. If I can help Ward, I need to. I want to."

"We don't even know  _if_ he can be helped," she reminded him, cool and unperturbed. "If he even truly wants to be helped. He may be playing us. Again. Trusting him is dangerous."

Jemma nodded and squeezed his arm. "Remember, you believed in him before. You didn't think he'd really try to kill us. But he did."

"Maybe. Maybe not," he muttered.

"What?"

"Fitz?"

He didn't have any proof, but, well… He wanted to believe. Maybe that's why Ward picked him. He was naive enough to trust. Or to con.

"Look, I've done the math. My signal shouldn't have been detected on the surface. The only way Fury could have intercepted a signal is if Ward didn't deactivate the automatic emergency beacon. He could have forgotten, but it seems unlikely."

The room was silent, until Tripp cleared his throat. "Even if that's true, he couldn't have known anyone would come along who would hear it."

"I know," Fitz sighed and rubbed his hand through his hair. "I know. I'm not saying he wasn't willing to let us die. I just think, part of him was trying to work around his orders. The whole thing is too complicated to look at in black and white."

No one said anything, but he knew what they were thinking. Hell, he was thinking it, too.

The chances of him actually getting through to Ward, actually making a difference, were slim to none. But he and Ward had faced those same kinds of odds in South Ossetia and they'd succeeded.

#

It was late, dark and silent in the out of the way office Fitz had appropriated for himself. He'd spent the last two days reading and re-reading every file they'd found on the conditioning project in general and on Ward specifically.

It left him sick to his stomach, horrified yet oddly numb.

Now, though, he could no longer put off watching the video reports of Ward's training. Fitz knew seeing it was going to be a thousand times worse than reading about it, but he had no choice. He had to watch every second. Had to be calculating enough to study it. To analyze and dissect it and figure out what techniques worked best to bring Ward to heel fastest.

His gut twisted in disgust at himself. At what he knew he had to do. Wondered if believing the end justifying the means was the slippery slope that led Garrett to his ultimate megalomania and downfall.

Five minutes into the first video, he reached blindly for the off switch, unable to see through the tears stinging his eyes. Coughing to loosen the strangle-hold of emotion gagging him, Fitz slumped in his seat and admitted to himself he might not have what it took to go through with it, after all.

"It's a lot, isn't it?"

Fitz jumped, wiping the moisture from his eyes before turning his chair to face Coulson.

The new Director, and wasn't that still weird, leaned against the door, wearing the small sad smile he'd been showing way too much, lately.

"What Ward went through, I mean, it's a lot to deal with."

Coulson pushed away from the door and took a few steps inside.

There weren't really words, so Fitz simply nodded in agreement.

Coulson sighed, loosened his tie, and sank down onto the chair next to Fitz.

"You really don't have to do this, you know."

"It's not about having to. It's about wanting to. I want to."

That got him a raised eyebrow.

"Not. I don't want to. To do  _that_ ," Fitz stumbled to correct himself, waving at the blacked out screen to encompass everything Ward had endured.

He slumped a little more in the chair.

"I don't think I have to, anyway. I've read the files. I don't have to break him down. His family. Garrett. Hydra. They all already did that. He just needs someone to give him rules. Guidelines."

Fitz swallowed hard, but continued. "He needs someone to obey. Someone else to make the decisions for him. As long as he's left like he is, he's going to keep acting as if he still needs to please Garrett."

Fitz fiddled with the mouse, not wanting to meet Coulson's eyes while he tried to explain it to both of them.

"I just have to give him boundaries. Reward good behavior and make bad behavior unpleasant. It's basic operant conditioning."

And, god, that made Ward sound like a pet. But that's what Garrett had done to him.

"You think you can do it? Give him that? The punishment and the boundaries along with the rewards?"

"I hope so. Garrett was a sadist, but the pain wasn't what drove Ward. He worked for the praise, did everything he could to please when Garrett withheld it."

Fitz finally looked up, met Coulson's gaze and held it. "I'm not proud of what I'm going to have to do. But he needs someone to put him back together and, at the moment, I'm the only one he'll give a chance to do it."

"All right, if you're sure," Coulson stood up, looking relieved and resigned at the same time. "I just got word they'll be releasing him into our custody in three days. Will you be ready?"

Fitz forced himself not to fidget. "Yes. I'll be ready."

After Coulson left, Fitz buried his face in his hands, trying to keep his breathing from racing out of control.

Then, with a shaking hand, he turned the video back on. Whether he wanted to watch or not, he had to do this. If he was going to help Ward, he needed to understand what had shaped him.

#

Ward knew it was a mistake as soon as Coulson left. Of the team, Fitz was the one least likely to agree.

May would have no problem. Probably even enjoy it. Coulson would do it out of duty. Skye would agree, at least to begin with. Her anger and thirst for vengeance, would carry her a little while, even if she ultimately wouldn't be able to go through with it. Simmons would see it as an interesting experiment. Disassociate the person from the data she was collecting.

But Fitz. He was too soft-hearted and empathetic to do what Ward knew needed to be done. Not long ago, Ward would have said it was a weakness. Now, though, he saw what a gift it was. He was as surprised as Coulson when he said he trusted Fitz. Even after nearly killing him, Ward had no doubt if Fitz agreed to help, he'd do it to the best of his abilities. Without letting ulterior motives or grudges get in the way.

He couldn't believe Fitz would agree. He'd doubt his own ability to separate emotion. Be too hesitant to dig for the kind of darkness in his own soul he'd need to free Ward for the darkness trapping his.

So he was surprised when the guards brought him back to the nice interrogation room and Coulson was waiting for him.

"Fitz agreed."

"Do you think he's up for it?" Ward couldn't help asking.

"I think he'll surprise you." Coulson smiled, then gave Ward an assessing once- over. "If you picked him because you thought you could manipulate him, you'll find you're wrong. He's determined to help you, even if it's in spite of you."

He pressed both hands on the table and leaned over until he stared Ward in the eye. "Last chance. Do you really want to do this?"

"Yes."

His voice was scratchy and filled with way more emotion than he'd intended, but his answer satisfied Coulson and put an end to the conversation.

The guards removed all but his wrist restraints and loaded him onto the bus for a silent plane ride. Coulson sat next to him, absorbed in whatever was on his tablet and Ward stayed as still as possible. There was no sign of anyone else, but he had no doubt May was piloting, waiting for the smallest sign of defiance on his part to pounce.

When they landed, for a second Ward thought they were back at Providence base, until he noted subtle differences. Then Agent Koenig stepped through the door, and Ward's breath caught, heart pounding and adrenaline racing.

"Ward this is Billy Koenig, Eric's brother."

The agent glared, cold anger flashing for a second before the he turned to Coulson and the enthusiastic professionalism took over.

"Sir, the rooms are ready and all the, ahem," Koenig cast a sideways glance at Ward. "All the  _extra_ security measures are in place."

Another layer of guilt settled over Ward. Every reminder of what he'd done, of the lives he'd broken, destroyed and ended, weighed heavier and heavier, dragging him down.

Garrett's laugh echoed somewhere in the back of his head, calling him soft. Weak. Useless. Reminding him they'd had a purpose and nothing else matter. 

That voice used to be enough to push away his remorse and doubt. Make him bury whatever conscience he had under a layer of ice cold necessity. He'd  _believed_  what they were doing was for the greater good. Believed Garrett had all the answers.

Now, he had to accept his responsibility of every moment and try not to buckle under it.

Coulson led him deep into the base, and Ward cataloged every twist and turn, noted the similarities and differences to the layout of Providence. They passed through several secured doors into an area that seemed totally locked down and inescapable. It also seemed to be completely empty.

The room Coulson finally ushered him into was small, but surprisingly not as Spartan as the cell he'd left behind. The walls were painted a warm yellow, a full sized bed with real sheets sat in one corner, a small writing desk and chair stood along the opposite wall with a mini refrigerator tucked underneath.

There was even a private bathroom attached.

Coulson didn't say another word, just waved him inside and closed the door behind him. An electronic whir preceded the thud of a heavy duty lock sliding into place. It shouldn't sound so final. Hell, compared to where he'd been, it was practically a luxury hotel room. But this wasn't about interrogation or punishment. This was about someone fucking around with his head.

Ward cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, forcing the wayward thoughts back beneath the surface. Step one of any op, study the terrain and environment. His wrists were still chained but it wouldn't stop him exploring the small room.

The bathroom held utilitarian soap, shampoo, toothpaste. Nothing that would react chemically together. The plastic of the toothbrush too soft to hold an edge if broken.

The fridge had bread, lunch meat, cheese, fresh fruit, bottled water, and pudding cups. Hm. The plastic containers might have a use if he could find a way to break it as could the flat wooden spatulas meant to eat the dessert with.

The desk had nothing. No notebooks, no pens, no staples. He couldn't even give anyone a paper cut.

The bed was a thick mattress on a glued plywood frame. No springs. No screws or nails that he could find. The sheets were soft, though. The blanket thick and warm. The pillow cradled his head softly when he flopped on it. For a few minutes, he lay on the bed, fear and tension leaking out of him and he let himself relax.

The longer he lay there, however, the more the fear began to coil in on itself. Tension wrapping itself around him tighter and tighter until he had to think about every inhale and exhale.

What was taking Fitz so long? Had he changed his mind? Would someone else walk through the door? Would they expect him to just accept it? Could he? He was a weapon. In Garrett's hands he'd done unspeakable things. He believed Fitz wouldn't do that to him. He didn't have much faith in the rest of humanity.

If Fitz changed his mind, Ward was stuck. There'd be no fixing him. No one would ever be able to trust him. He'd never be able to trust himself.

Fuck, why the hell was he willing to trust Fitz? If this failed, it wasn't only Ward in danger of being lost. He'd be a danger to everything and everyone who crossed his path. Who knew what nastiness Garrett had left locked up in his head.

The lock whirred again, distracting him from spiraling panic and the door opened. Fitz stepped inside holding a small case, uncertainty hiding behind a stern frown and narrowed eyes.

This was a bad idea. This wasn't going to end well. Flooded with unease he'd never show, Ward forced himself to relax, tucked his chained hands behind his head and smirked up at his new handler. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Heart hammering in his ears, Fitz did his best not to look like he was terrified. One glance at the smug way Ward was sprawled on the bed in prison orange, chains clinking casually behind his head and eyes glittering made Fitz think he failed miserably to hide his fear.

He squared his shoulders, frowned harder to keep from biting his lip and set the case on the desk to relieve the painful, white knuckled grip he'd been holding it with.

"Ward," he said, once he was sure his voice wouldn't shake. He was actually pleasantly surprised by how steady and firm it came out.

Unfortunately, the greeting just made Ward's smirk deepen.

"Fitz, buddy. Good to see you. Didn't really believe you had it in you." He swung his feet to the floor, sat up and let his smirk drop into a darker, harder expression. "Still not really sure you do."

He knew intimidation was going to be Ward's first line of defense. So he'd had May spend the past few days glaring holes at him. It had worked surprisingly well. Ward's glower barely even caused a blip in his heart rate.

"We have a lot of worked to do, Ward, and none of it fun," he said with an exasperated sigh. "Why don't you leave off the theatrics and we can get to work on fixing you?"

Ward blinked at him, and Fitz decided to score himself the first round. Then Ward tilted his head, expression shifting into something sultry and inviting and like nothing Fitz had ever prepared for.

"Why don't you come over here and let me suck your dick? Then you can tell everybody I'm a good, obedient boy. All fixed and everything."

The heated look, the crude words falling like silk out of Ward's lips, warmed Fitz with a curl of want he hadn't expected. He'd known intimacy was going to be necessary. Knew he'd been attracted to Ward since the first moment they'd met. But he'd thought he'd be able to keep it compartmentalized a little better. Still, he didn't dare let anything slip. Shaking his head, Fitz rolled his eyes and turned to undo the locks on the case.

"That's not the way it's going to work, Ward. It's not going to be that easy."

Ward was on his feet, the distance between them disappearing in a split second when Ward crowded into Fitz's space.

"I've endured torture more times than I can count. I've been deep enough under cover to fool Russian spies and SHIELD psych evals. Apparently, I've been conditioned and programmed by the best. You really think you can break me? You really think you have what it takes to undo what Garrett and my brother did to me?"

He loomed over Fitz, managing to seem even bigger, hot breath brushing angry words against Fitz's cheek. Fitz couldn't fight the urge to swallow, but kept his head up, eyes unblinking and steady while stared back. He knew he couldn't out-menace Ward. His only weapons were calm and patience and authority he'd have to fake until he felt more certain.

"You're not cruel enough," Ward spit out. "You're not selfish enough. You're not strong enough."

This was the moment. If he showed any weakness, he'd lose the battle before they even started. He couldn't let Ward direct the action. Couldn't let him steer the conversation.

"Give me your hands." Fitz kept his voice low, but didn't let any doubt creep in.

Ward blinked, head lifting slightly in surprise.

"What?"

"Give. Me. Your. Hands." Every drop of authority he could muster went into the clipped, confident command.

And, surprisingly, it worked.

Ward stepped back a little, raising his hands palms up to hover in the space between them. Not giving either of them a chance to think to long about it, Fitz reached into his case for the key and deftly unlocked the chains on Ward's arms.

Then he pulled two metal cuffs out of the case and attached one to each wrist, lights flashing briefly before fading. Once they sealed, there was no evidence of a seam, and it would take incredibly specialized tools to cut through the unique alloy. Only Fitz and Coulson knew the key to unlocking them.

Deciding to go for a little theatrics of his own, Fitz murmured a soft command.

Ward's hands jerked and he hissed, taking another half step back.

"What the hell?" he demanded, glaring first at the metal, then at Fitz.

"That was a test jolt. Not even a level one pain deterrent. It goes up to level fifteen. It also has GPS for tracking purposes."

He inhaled slowly, hoping Ward didn't notice the fortifying breath while he was examining his new accessories.

"Sit down, Ward."

The bluster was back. And the looming. Though some of the menace had seeped out of his expression and confusion glittered in the background.

"I said, sit down. We both know, if you were going to hurt me, you'd have done it as soon as I stepped through the door. Even with the restraints, you could have taken me out in under fifteen seconds."

Ward snorted, no doubt thinking Fitz's estimation was generous. 

Then he sat down. Fitz pressed his arm tight against his side to resist the urge to do a fist pump in victory.

"Of course, it would have been a lot more difficult for you to get through the security system the rest of the team and I cooked up." He shrugged at Ward's raised eyebrow, then added, "But that's not why either of us is here."

"Why am I here?"

He sounded so lost, so genuinely confused, that Fitz wanted to hug him. But they weren't ready for that, yet.

"You're here because you want a second chance. You're here because you know what Garrett and Cybertek did to you and you don't want to be their pawn anymore."

Ward looked thoughtful, but his jaw tensed and his chin rose defiantly.

"How do you know I'm not here because I figured a handful of people who still have a soft spot for me would be easier to escape than maximum security?"

Fitz rolled his eyes. "You expect me to believe you really think May is easier to get past than Talbot and a prison built by the lowest bidder?"

He waited, but Ward didn't respond. He just pressed his lips together and looked past Fitz's shoulder. Fitz was beginning to recognize that as one of Ward's few tells. He stepped closer, trying his best to loom, and took Ward's chin in hand to force his gaze back on Fitz.

"I don't have to be cruel or selfish. I don't have to break you. That was done a long time ago. I just have to make you listen to me. I just have to prove that I know better than you do what you need. That I can get inside you, and make you what I want you to be."

It's not true. It's not what Fitz intends to do, at all. For now, though, Ward needs to believe it.

"Garrett—"

"This isn't about Garrett," Fitz snapped, than softened his tone but kept it confident and firm. "It's about you. About you and me, together. We are going to fix this. You told Coulson you trust me. Did you mean it?"

"As much as I trust anyone."

"It's a start." Another deep breath. In for a penny. "Okay. Strip."

#

For the first time, Ward looked surprised and a little off-balance. It only took him a second though for suspicion to shutter it and a knowing, seductive smirk to slide into place. He stood up slowly and took his time undoing the buttons one by one before shrugging off the ugly orange shirt.

Fitz refused to look away from the daring way Ward tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and shoved them down in one fluid motion and tried hard to ignore the way his dick twitched in his jeans. As much as he wished he could stop the flush creeping into his face, he ignored the way his cheeks heated and kept his face impassive.

Then Ward kicked the clothes out of his way, sank to his knees, tilting his head back to look up from beneath his lashes in faux submission. Fitz had to clench his hands to keep from palming his dick or reaching out to grab the back of Ward's head.

"Is  _this_  when I suck your dick, then?"

The calculated words and undertone of resignation cooled Fitz's unexpected reaction. He resisted the urge to drop his eyes and forced away the guilt and uncertainty plaguing him. Sex was always going to be part of this. Garrett used it as reward and punishment. It was equated too strongly for Ward with praise not to be part of what happened between them. 

Clearing his throat, he tried not to show to much of the controversy raging inside him.

"You're a little too fascinated with my dick, today. Sorry, but it's not going to be that easy. You're going to have to earn that."

Ward's breath hitched, skin flushing and pupils widening.

Huh, maybe it was going to work, after all. He glanced at the case, which held the change of clothes he'd been about to give Ward and decided maybe it could wait.

"This is when we're going to go over the ground rules."

Fitz rattle off some of the basic rules, he'd come up with while reviewing files and waiting for Ward's transfer. Basics like: no escaping, no killing, listening to Fitz. Daily workouts where he'd be expected to do his all.

It wasn't the rules themselves that were important. It was the simple fact of setting boundaries and creating ground rules. Garrett had made Ward guess. Had changed the rules without warning. Had pulled the rug out from under to keep him on his toes. It had been part of the program Cybertek had laid out and used successfully on other victims.

But Fitz had watched carefully and studied the notes and Ward's responses over and over again. There was always a setback after Garrett punished Ward. Especially when the rules had been changed on him unexpectedly. It was obvious Ward needed expectations. And that he worked harder to gain praise than he did to avoid punishment. At least, that was what Fitz was counting on, because he didn't think he had what it took to mete out the kind of punishment that would get through to Ward.

When he finished talking, he folded his arms across his chest and looked at Ward expectantly.

"Did you understand all that?"

Smug amusement flirted around the edges of Ward's serious expression when he nodded gravely.

"Behave. Don't do bad things. Be a good boy. I think I can handle it."

Fitz pursed his lips and studied Ward doubtfully. "We'll see."

Then he turned and moved back to the desk, fiddling with the case while he spoke. "Fold your clothes and come over here."

From the corner of his eye, he watched Ward rise gracefully to his feet, carefully fold the clothes into precise squares. When he was done, he stepped closer to Fitz and offered them on upraised hands like some kind of tribute.

"So, are you going to keep me naked to humble me? To make feel me vulnerable?" Ward's expression twisted into mock, exaggerated fear. "Or just because you like looking at my body?"

"None of the above, actually," Fitz said with a slight chuckle, turning to hand Ward the black t-shirt and track pants that had been tucked in the bottom of the case. He carefully kept his gaze above Ward's shoulders.

"I figured these would be more comfortable than neon polyester. I'd have given them to you earlier if you hadn't been such a pain in the ass."

Ward blinked at the clothes, then lifted his eyes. For a second, there was a haunting look of disbelief and…

It couldn't be gratitude. That was ridiculous. There was no reason for Ward to be grateful for a change of clothes considering the much worse he'd endured.

But the look was gone before Fitz could define it, covered again with the unreadable mask Ward had preferred when he'd been undercover, acting as part of their team.

Fitz actually kind of missed the smirking confidence.

"I'll be back in the morning for you first workout."

Snapping the case closed, Fitz left without another word.

#

Ward lay on the bed, hands tucked behind his head, and stared at the ceiling. He kept expecting the cuffs to itch or irritate. The fact that they didn't, that they were almost comfortable, irrationally angered him.

How the hell did Fitz expect to control him by being  _nice_?

Not that Ward wanted to be controlled. But he didn't want to be a HYDRA weapon, either…

Rolling onto his side, he punched at the pillow futilely. He didn't want any of this. But Cybertek hadn't really given him a choice. Hell, his brother primed him for it, even before Garrett even got his hooks into him.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to ignore the horrifying thought that destiny, the universe, whatever, had intended him for a life of servitude from the very beginning.

Refusing to give in to depressing fatalism, he focused on trying to figure out what had been wrong with him when Fitz had handed him simple a t-shirt and track pants.

It had been ridiculous how touched he'd felt at Fitz giving him clothes. He'd seemed so fucking sincere about wanting Ward to be comfortable. He'd seemed so sincere about everything, even when he'd been trying to hide his nervousness. Or when he'd been irritated with Ward.

Which, considering Ward had been trying to push, to see how quickly Fitz would break, it was surprising to see how much more backbone the kid had. Or how much Ward liked it. How much he'd had to fight to keep from bowing his head and saying 'yes, sir' when he'd been on his knees, listening to the rules. How much he'd wanted Fitz to take out his dick and make Ward take what he'd been asking for. Wanted to show how good he was it. Wanted to hear Fitz enjoy it.

Except, it wasn't surprising at all. He'd asked for Fitz immediately. Some part of him knew Fitz was the only one he could hope to learn to trust. The only one who'd make him eager to strive to be better, to want to please.

He supposed it was more surprising Fitz had given him the clothes at all, after he'd been such a petulant child, in an attempt to hide his reaction.

Not that it should matter to him. It's not like he hadn't been naked in front of friends, enemies and strangers before. It wasn't even like anyone else was going to see him. Except for whatever hidden cameras were watching.

Hidden cameras no doubt meant to watch his every move. To see them. To see how much he  _liked_  what Fitz did to him. Because he knew he wasn't going to be able to hide it forever. He twitched a little at the thought. Everyone would see how fucking easy he was. Just like they'd seen how simple it had been for Garrett to indoctrinate him.

At least he was choosing Fitz. Free will may not have ever been an option for him in the universe's cosmic joke on his life, but he got to pick who got control, this time.

_You belong to me, Ward._ Garrett's voice hummed a siren song in his memory. _I've given you everything. You owe me. You won't betray me, right? You won't listen to anyone else, will you?_

"Fuck. No."

He shifted off the bed, pacing in an effort to look casually restless, while he searched methodically for the cameras. When he couldn't find them he heard Garrett's voice again. Telling him to escape. That it was weak and pathetic that he hadn't already outsmarted Coulson's ragtag cadre.

He squatted down to the mini-fridge and pulled out one of the pudding cups and the small flat wooden spatula they'd left for him to eat with. He smothered his triumph by peeling back the lid of the pudding and pretended to take a bite while sauntering into the bathroom.

Coulson had admitted Cybertek had drugged his water and Ward wasn't taking chances on the food in the fridge.

He had no idea where whatever cameras that existed might be, or if Coulson had recruited enough new people to have him monitored around the clock. Either way, he'd never yet encountered a security feed that zeroed in on the sink basin. Sticking the pudding cup under the water, Ward rinsed it out quickly then mangled the plastic into a shape he could use.

Ward knew whoever, if anyone, was monitoring the feed would be suspicious but not overly concerned with his unusual need to clean up. He'd need to give them time to relax and possibly get sleepy in the later hours. So he threw away the part of the cup he didn't need, tucked the plastic bits and wooden spatula into his palm before shutting off all the lights and crawling back into bed.

While he bided his time, Ward went over everything he remembered about the layout and security of Providence and what he'd seen on his way in.

When his internal clock told him several hours had passed, he rolled off the bed and made straight for the door. The darkness wouldn't shield him from night vision cameras so he got right down to the business of disabling the electronic lock. Upgraded slightly from the last SHIELD lock he'd practiced picking, it still took him less than a minute to get the door open.

As soon as he stepped into the hallway, though, his wristbands lit up. Then tearing stripes of pain coursed throughout his body, dropping him to the floor in paralyzing agony. Around him alarms began to blare and emergency lighting flooded the hallway with blazing light.

Heavy footsteps pounded toward him and he pried open his eyes to see May, Tripp and Coulson, weapons drawn and pointed unwaveringly for kill shots. Seconds, or an eternity, later another, slower set of footsteps rounded the corner and Ward caught sight of Fitz, slightly out of breath, eyes wide and trying to hide the hints of panic behind a frown.

But his eyes weren't on Ward. They were on Coulson. He stopped a few feet away and murmured something that made the pain stop and the wrist cuffs go dark. Ward's entire body went limp with the relief of it. He stayed still and prone on the floor even after the agony receded, partly because his muscles felt too weak to move and partly because he was watching some kind of unspoken conversation going on between Fitz and Coulson.

Fitz had straightened up, squared his shoulders and lifted his chin in response to Coulson's questioning look.

"I've got this," he said with quiet confidence that surprised Ward.

Coulson hesitated a second or two longer, then holstered his weapon and nodded to the other two.

"Okay. Let's go. Fitz can handle this."

Tripp shifted his weapon slightly but gave Coulson a doubtful glance. May didn't move, kept her weapon aimed at Ward's forehead. "Coulson…"

"May…" he mimicked her tone and jerked his chin toward the security doors at the end of the hall.

Her lips pinched and her glare heated with warning as she stared down Ward. Then she rolled her eyes, holstered her gun and walked away. Tripp followed, a little slower, glancing back at Ward uncertainly. Coulson trailed behind, stopping to clap Fitz on the shoulder and said something too quiet for Ward to hear.

Fitz kept looking at Ward, with an expression Ward couldn't easily read, when he nodded in response. Coulson smiled, patted his arm one last time and disappeared out the doors, leaving just the two of them in the hallway.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Ward tried to stand up, intending to face whatever was coming on his feet. But his limbs were still rubbery and he couldn't quite make everything work. Fitz knelt down and ducked his shoulder under Ward's arm, helping him get to his feet and back into the room to settle on his bed.

Surprised both by Fitz's strength and his gentleness, Ward didn't even struggle. However Fitz intended to punish him for this, he'd accept it. Licking his lips, Ward looked up at Fitz standing over him to say just that.

Before he found the words, Fitz sighed, a sound filled with exasperation and disappointment. A sound that tied up the air in Ward's lungs, squeezing his heart and stealing the words away from him.

Settling one hand gently on Ward's shoulder and sliding the other one into his hair, Fitz let his head drop until their foreheads pressed together.

"Where were you going, Grant?"

His name on Fitz's lips, asked with the sound of hurt and dismay, twisted the guilt, the smothering sensation of being a disappointment, a little tighter.

He didn't have an answer. They knew about the cabin, they knew about his SHIELD safe houses. With the information they'd got from Cybertek, they probably knew most of his other bolt holes.

No family. No friends. Garrett had made sure he was the only important thing in Ward's life for over a decade. He'd made sure Ward cut off, betrayed or destroyed everyone who ever got close to him.

How had he not seen what they'd done to him? How had he ever believed Garrett was his salvation?

"Nowhere," he whispered, barely even hearing himself. "I have nowhere to go."

The hand in his hair tightened and Fitz's breath hitched, eyes softening. Compassion.

A weakness Ward had been trained to exploit.

Except, in that moment, he didn't want to use it or twist it to his own ends. He wanted to sink into it. Accept it. Be worthy of it.

"You have here, Grant. You have us."

 _Don't throw it away_  was unspoken but loud and clear, all the same.

Adrenalin surged again, lightning running through his veins as multiple impulses competed for supremacy.

Run. Fight. Submit.

Ward closed his eyes, took a deep breath readying himself for whatever he'd need to endure, then looked into Fitz's eyes.

"What do you want me to do?"

The brilliant, pleased smile he got in return was a kicked to the gut. It wasn't the predatory, possessive look he'd have gotten from Garrett. It was filled with pride and praise and promise.

Pleasure and relief flooded Ward and, in that moment, he would have done anything, been anything, promised everything, to know he'd get that smile again.

"We'll get to that," Fitz murmured, then straightened up, releasing his hold on Ward's hair and stepped back.

That was when Ward realized the door was still wide open. And Fitz had shifted to the side, so Ward had a clear shot at it with no interference. He flexed his muscles, but the pain and weakness had worn off. There was nothing stopping him from making another break for it.

Except the metal cuffs and the steady way Fitz watched him. 

"I guess I forgot to mention the wristbands had a built in perimeter sensor. That was level 4 by the way." Fitz took a deep breath before continuing. "I panicked when I saw you on the floor and shut the sensor off completely."

Ward looked sharply from Fitz to the door and back. He was saying Ward could walk out it without pain. Without setting off the alarms. Ward knew it was a test. Yet he also believed every word. Whatever strength and dominant tendencies Fitz was developing, it was doubtful he'd learned to lie that well in the short time since they'd been on the same team.

Ward was still a little high from the satisfaction Fitz showed in him, though. He brushed his thumb over the cool metal and made the decision that could rebuild him or break him completely. No doubt he'd probably regret it later. Clasping his hands together, he settled easier on the bed, forced his primed muscles to relax and looked straight at Fitz.

"What do you want me to do?" he repeated.

Fitz didn't smile this time, and Ward tried not to be disappointed. But some of the tense lines eased around his eyes and determination stiffened his jaw. He murmured something that made the lights flash on the cuffs and closed the door. He then pulled a couple of tools out of his pocket and started fiddling with the lock.

Ward tensed but there was no pain and the lights faded out quickly. Apparently, it was reset. No doubt, when Fitz was done, the next time Ward tried the lock, he'd find it a lot harder to pick. He should have realized his escape attempt had been way too easy. Fitz might have been foolish enough to leave him the tools he needed, but Coulson and May would never have let something so simple slip through the cracks.

Second thoughts swamped him. He'd just put himself right back into the hands of people he'd betrayed over and over again.

Fitz finally finished with the door and turned back. He lifted his chin, mouth pinched in a way Ward knew was his attempt to be commanding.

"Strip."

Ward couldn't help the smirk. Or the sinking disappointment. Day two and Fitz had already run out of creativity. He didn't even bother with the slow strip tease this time. He'd already seen Fitz blush and hold his ground anyway. Once naked, though, he was surprised when Fitz let his gaze drift slowly over Ward's body. The way his eyes lingered, the way he licked his lips. The way he didn't try to hide his open and blatant appreciation.

Ward could see the faint outline of a bulge forming behind the zipper of Fitz's jeans. His own dick stirred, blood rushing to it in sympathy until he was half-hard from simply being stared at.

Fitz watched a minute longer like he was willing it to grow more. Then he looked up and gave Ward a slow, salacious grin.

"Touch yourself."

That took him by surprise. His hand twitch to obey, but his brain was sure he'd misheard.

"What?" It came out sharper than he'd intended. Angrier. Because he wanted to stroke himself desperately. And getting what he wanted was never part of the game. Unless it was a prelude to a mindfuck.

"Stroke yourself, Ward. Pretty sure you don't need specific instructions. Just do what you like."

This was… he'd never done this before. All the things Garrett had done to him, made him do, he'd never felt like he'd was on display before. Christ, why did the act of simply wrapping his fingers around his dick make him feel more vulnerable than stripping off his clothes ever had.

He figured, whatever Fitz had planned for his punishment, he wanted Ward fully hard for it. So he set a fast pace, pulling his dick quick and ruthless, keeping his jaw set and his face as blank as possible.

"Hey, no. Slow," Fitz said, looking distraught. "Easy. Make yourself feel good."

Ward's mouth fell open and he forced himself to close it with a sharp click. What the hell game was this?

He slowed his strokes, let only the palm of his hand slide up and down his shaft, slip over the head to spread around the leaking pre-come and then grasped it again.

His eyes never left Fitz while he played with himself. He tried not to let the pleasure overwhelm him. Tried not to get lost in the sensations. But Fitz was watching his every move. The flush heating his cheeks wasn't an embarrassed blush this time. His eyes were glassy and locked onto Ward's hand, his teeth sank deep into his lip and his chest rose and fell in quick, harsh breaths.

A soft moan hummed in the room and it took Ward longer than it should have to realize the sound came from his own throat. He swallowed hard to keep a second pathetic whine from following.

His hand sped up, his hips rocking into the action now. He was close. So close…

"Stop."

He froze, disbelief and need clouding his brain. He opened his mouth to ask why. To ask for more. But that wasn't the game he intended to play.

His hand slipped off his dick and it curled against his body, trailing sticky heat. Ward tucked his hands behind his back, stood up straight and did his best to look unconcerned despite the raging hard-on begging for attention.

"Is this where I'm supposed to beg?"

Did Fitz really think Ward was that weak? There had been times Garrett would keep him on edge for days and still not let him come. Did Fitz think a little jerking off would break him?

His hands tightened against themselves, behind him though. Because Fitz was looking at him thoughtfully. And a little pityingly. He really couldn't stand that. He would be good. He would do as he was told. But he would not beg.

"No. I don't want you to beg, Ward," Fitz said softly, pity melting into something hot and wanting. He stepped closer until their bodies were almost touching.

Ward wanted to lean in, to let his dick brush against Fitz. To rub against him until the pent up need was released. The burn of denim on skin would be a small price to pay for the friction and the way Fitz's hot eyes were looking at Ward.

"This isn't where I expect anything from you. This is where I offer to help you finish?"

Fitz fingers brushed against his stomach and Ward sucked in hard, shifting into the touch. Then the touch drifted lower, thumbs settling into the hollows of his hips and fingers wrapping around his sides.

He couldn't help the whimper or the slight jerk of his hips.

"Ward? Do you want me to touch you? Do you want me to get you off?"

Yes was on the tip of his tongue. But he'd learned the hard way to try to find out all the repercussions before he agreed. Not that it usually did him any good. But at least he could try to prepare himself.

"I don't understand. Isn't this supposed to be a punishment for trying to escape?"

Fitz smiled and shifted back a little, putting some space between them, though his hands stayed on Ward, thumbs still stroking along his hipbones.

"If you're trying to get me to personally punish you for trying to escape, you're going to have to try harder."

Ward jerked his head back and blinked, taken aback by both the words and the hint of amusement.

"What?"

"You didn't even make it completely out the door. Then, I gave you a second, even better opportunity, and you stayed. The pain from the cuffs was enough punishment for the lame attempt."

Fitz hands drifted a few inches until his thumbs stroked through the hair centimeters from Ward's dick and it was getting harder to think.

"This," Fitz said, letting the tip of one thumb graze against the hot skin of his cock. "This is a reward for staying."

Ward's brain was stuck. None of this, none of it was how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to hurt. He was supposed to prove he'd learned his lesson. He was supposed to beg. And then the punishment would stop. Rewards were… they were a brass ring. Few and far between.

Fitz sighed and stepped away. Ward wanted to move closer, to gain back the heat and the touch he was starting to crave. But he was sure that was against the rules.

"Get on the bed, Grant."

Fitz sounded exasperated and Ward nearly flinched. His erection softened and panic set in. Had he screwed it up already? Had his hesitation disappointed Fitz? Everything rational had been shunted to the side and all he could think about was obeying, of regaining the approval he'd lost. He moved quick, settling on his back on the bed, hoping he guessed right and Fitz hadn't wanted him on his stomach.

Or on all fours.

But Fitz sat next to him on the bed, half smile still in place. One hand settled on Ward's thigh and his eyes raked over Ward's body. Ward's dick twitched under the scrutiny, getting its second wind.

"Okay. Here's what we can do. I can leave and you can finish what you started, alone. Or I can take care of it for you."

Again, Fitz's fingers stroked over the sensitive skin of his thigh, so close and yet so far from where Ward wanted them to stroke.

"But I won't touch your dick unless you tell me you want me to."

Want? Ward sank his teeth into his cheek to hold back the hysterical laughter. It was never about what he wanted. Right now, it was a hot, desperate need.

"Yes, touch me."

Despite promising himself, despite swearing to Fitz he wouldn't beg, his tongue slid along his lower lip and the word slipped out of its own volition.

"Please."

The hand on his thigh moved to wrap softly around his straining dick. It slid slow up and down the shaft a few times. Then the grip got tighter, the movement faster. Ward's whole body felt like it was on fire. Straining, aching, needing, waiting.

He hovered on the edge, fingers curling into fists, body taut and hips lewdly jerking. Close, so close. He just needed… needed…

Fitz leaned closer, lips nuzzled to his ear, hand twisting in a perfect counter-point to the rhythm of Ward's body.

"You don't have to wait for permission, Ward. You can come whenever you want."

The fingers of his free hand smoothed along Ward's jaw, across his cheek and over his lips. Ward's mouth opened on a gasp and the fingers slid in, past his teeth. He closed his lips around them, suckling without thought.

His body heaved, white flashed behind his eyes, pleasure shook him and he came with an almost violent bliss shocking through him.

He hovered on the crest of it for few minutes, distantly felt the heat of come pooling on his skin, the slowing of Fitz hand. Sleepy lassitude filled him. He hadn't ever felt anything like that and he let himself drift on the aftermath.

Eventually, Fitz reached down, picked up Ward's discarded shirt and wiped his hand off before haphazardly cleaning Ward up with it. Then he stretched out on the bed, head propped in one hand while the other stroked Ward from shoulder to hip and back again. He arched into the touch, shifting closer to Fitz, thigh pressing against the hard ridge Fitz's erection.

He'd come before Fitz. What the fuck was he thinking? He had to fix, had to make it right, had to be good. Show Fitz he was good. Worthy.

Hot panic clouded everything. He shifted, reaching for Fitz while unchecked words poured out of his mouth. "I should… I can… Let me fix it. My hand or my mouth or my—"

"Don't worry about it, Grant." Fitz gently gripped his searching hand, pulling it back up until it rested between them on the bed. "Not tonight."

Fitz patted his shoulder than rolled out of bed, no doubt disgusted by Ward's weakness. Ward flopped back onto the bed, flinging his arm over his eyes, trying not to be disappointed that Fitz was leaving.

The heavy weight of failure sank deep in Ward's chest, making it hard to breath. He'd let Fitz down, he'd failed expectations. There might not be punishment, but he'd have to work twice as hard to prove himself worthy again.

Then he remembered having permission to come. Or, more accurately, being told he didn't need it. Embarrassment replaced panic. He'd known, intellectually, that Garrett had conditioned him. But he hadn't really understood until this moment how thoroughly he'd been under the man's spell.

How many times had Garrett told him not to jerk off during a mission? Or given him permission to hook up after a job well done? It hadn't just been a game they played the times Garrett had rewarded him by taking him to bed. It had been a fucking way of life. He'd belonged to Garrett.

Now he was handing that same power to Fitz. This time he had a choice. Sort of.

Movement in the room made him tense, until he realized Fitz hadn't left at all, he'd only gone to the bathroom. Now he was using a damp cloth to clean Ward up a little more thoroughly than the dirty t-shirt had.

And that was yet another unfamiliar sensation. After their… encounters, Garrett always just disappeared. Leaving Ward alone. Usually bruised, battered, filthy, covered in blood and come. Ward didn't want to like it, didn't want to get used to it, because it was something that could be taken away.

Fitz dropped the cloth on the floor and started gently running his hand through Ward's hair, combing it back in a soothing rhythm. Ward tightened his shoulders to keep from arching into it like a pampered cat. But his muscles relaxed in spite of his vigilance. His vertebrae eased one by one and he drifted to sleep to the soothing sound of Fitz's even breathing.

#

Fitz kept petting Ward's hair until he sank into a sound sleep. Fitz's erection had eased, but he was still half-hard and uncomfortable in his jeans. That was the price he paid for not being more careful. 

He'd seen and read enough to know Ward had been conditioned to make sure Garrett got off before he did. Even with blanket permission, he should have realized Ward would feel the need to try to prove himself.

And, fuck, after watching him naked, writhing. Whining. It had taken all of Fitz's self-control not to take what Ward offered. The entire time Ward had been tensed on the edge of orgasm, head thrown back mouth open to pant and whimper, Fitz had been thinking about what it would be like to slide his dick between those lips. Imagined how hot and tight and slick it would be. Thought about what those whimpers of pleasure would feel like against his skin. And when his fingers had slipped into the tempting mouth it had been even better than he'd imagined

Fitz took a shuddering breath and forced himself to get off the bed.

He had to get out of here before he did something stupid. Every step had to be about Ward. Not about Fitz. There'd be lots more nights like tonight. The physical relationship would escalate. But it wasn't about Fitz indulging his prurient fantasies, it was about building trust and a connection that would help Ward in the long run.

As much as he told himself this was for Ward, the knowledge that the man had very little choice in the matter made the guilt coil a little deeper. No matter what platitudes he told himself, he was taking advantage of Ward. The fact that the only other choice was to let someone who cared less about Ward do it, didn't mitigate the situation much.

He picked up the dirty towel and clothes and hurried out of the room. Outside, he closed the door and double-checked the lock, making sure the repairs and upgrades he made meant it would take more than a wood stick and a piece of plastic to get through it next time.

Satisfied, he rushed through the corridors, half-afraid Coulson or May would step out of the shadows to demand a debrief. Thankfully, he got back to his room without any humiliating encounters.

He so wasn't ready to talk about it. Doubted he ever would be. That was one of the conditions he'd made when he'd agreed. They could test Ward all they wanted afterward but there'd be no video, no written records of what happened between them. Fitz deserved the privacy and so did Ward.

Alone in his bed, though, the images of Ward moving under his hand wouldn't leave Fitz. The soft, sweet sound of him saying  _please_  kept ringing in Fitz's ears.

Just remembering how Ward's erection had swelled under his gaze made his own fill again. The man was so fucking gorgeous, all those sleek muscles standing there, hands locked behind his back.

Fitz still didn't know if it was the right thing. But, it was the only thing. So.

And that meant his body was going to react, because he was healthy, young and male.

Also, apparently, he had a previously undiscovered thing for power dynamics. Of course, he'd never, ever been in charge of anything or anyone before in his life, to discover it. 

His hand slid under the band of his boxers, while he thought about Ward stroking himself. Remembered the rhythm of Ward's hips as his body had loosened and let the sensation overwhelm him

Remembered the way he'd obeyed instantly, stopping as soon as Fitz ordered him to.

Fitz's hand skimmed over his own dick. It was heady, knowing he had that power over a man who was bigger, stronger and deadlier.

He remembered what Ward looked like on his knees. His free hand twisted into the sheet and Fitz imagined sliding fingers through thick dark hair, tugging his head back so he could watch Ward's eyes. The want and confusion and pleasure Ward hadn't been able to hide.

He imagined taking out his dick, stroking it slowly before pressing it against Ward's cheek and sliding down to his mouth.

He'd order him to open his mouth, imagining him obeying instantly shot a wave of pure lust and need rushing straight to his dick.

Fitz squeezed his eyes shut and his hand sped up while he imagined the deep, wet heat and sweet suction. Thought about what Ward would look like, mouth stretch around his dick, eyes watching Fitz with heavy expectation. Fitz's back arch, hips slamming into his hand and body shaking until he came, biting his lip to stop from crying out.

Guilt crept back in while he cleaned himself up but he forced it down. He would never hurt or humiliate Ward the way Garrett had.

They had an unknown city to save. Not to mention keeping Ward out of HYDRA's hands. That meant Ward had to be vulnerable and obedient whether Fitz got off on it or not.

So he swallowed down the guilt, turned off the light and rolled over, hoping to find a way to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Ward woke slowly and reached out. For someone who wasn't there.

His eyes popped open, heart hammering slightly, loneliness and doubt settling like lead.

Of course Fitz wasn't there. Why the hell would Ward have imagined, even for a moment that he'd stay? Why should he be disappointed that Fitz hadn't? It wasn't a surprise that the man who was his jailer preferred his own bed to sharing one with the broken fuck who'd betrayed and nearly murdered him.

It was more of a surprise that Ward had slept at all. Let alone slept soundly. He'd barely slept for weeks and his body hummed with energy and vitality for the first time in a long time. How good he felt had nothing to do with the orgasm he'd been granted or the gentle way Fitz had soothed him to sleep, he told himself. It was only about the decent night's sleep.

He rolled out of bed and headed for the shower. Whatever was coming today, he'd be ready for it.

Of course, there were no clothes when he came out. He'd misbehaved, hadn't he? Garrett had taught him more than once that clothes were a luxury for the obedient. Being naked didn't really bother Ward anymore.

Still, he worried a little about what would be expected of him to earn them back. It took him a week, once, to prove to Garrett that he deserved them. He still carried a couple of scars from that week.

So he sat on the bed and waited. He considered laying back and stroking himself, to test the boundaries. In the heat of the moment, Fitz had told him he didn't need permission. He was curious to see how far that rule stretched. But so soon after his first escape attempt was probably not the ideal time to push things. Being naked didn't bother him, but he'd at least like one layer of protection when he was surrounded by people who probably still wanted to punish him.

Especially, if he ran into May.

When Fitz came through the door, though, he had coffee, donuts, clean clothes and a radiant smile.

"All right. Let's get breakfast so we can get to work," he said cheerfully, setting the food on the desk and handing the clothes to Ward.

He held them for a second, nearly asking if Fitz was sure. But he swallowed back the ridiculous urge and got dressed quickly.

"No cream, no sugar, right?"

Ward hadn't had coffee in weeks. He'd have drunk any swill with caffeine he was offered, at this point, but it was good, rich and dark and hot.

After the first delicious sip, he lowered his cup and met Fitz's eyes with a hard, serious stare.

"Thank you."

He meant for more than just the coffee and clothes. More even than the best orgasm he could remember. He meant for giving him more chances than he deserved.

He wasn't sure if his meaning was clear, but Fitz blushed and shrugged, turning back to pick up a donut and murmured softly, "You're welcome."

#

The gym Fitz let Ward to after breakfast was laid out in a typical, if fairly elaborate, SHIELD training obstacle course. Ward flexed his fingers, and examined each trial while he listened to the soothing babble of Fitz's explanation.

"So, uh, it's been a while since you've gotten any training. Or really any exercise at all. Coulson thought you this would be good for you. You know, to sharpen skills, burn off ang… er… energy. Just get back in shape."

"Because a weapon isn't any good if it's not properly maintained."

Coffee and hand-jobs aside, that's what he was. He was a means to an end for Fitz and the rest. He'd need to remember that if he wanted to keep his sanity intact.

"Ward," Fitz hand touched his bicep and he shrugged, not wanting to lean into the touch. Not wanting to let himself enjoy the feeling of connection, even briefly.

He focused on the course instead. "Looks pretty advanced for a base full of tech types."

"Uh, May set it up. If it's too much too soon, just say something, okay?"

Ward gritted his teeth.

"I can handle anything May throws at me. What's the punishment for failure?" he asked, absently rubbing at the cuff on his wrist.

Fitz widened his eyes and shook his head. "There's no punishment for failing. Unless you're not really trying. Or deliberately fuck it up."

Then he smiled and added, "There is a reward for completing it in the scheduled amount of time, though."

"Positive reinforcement? Really? Are you going to pat me on the head and give me a treat?" He meant it to come out sharp and sarcastic, but Fitz's enthusiasm was contagious and it sounded more like banter.

Which made Fitz smile even wider.

"Well, I thought maybe I'd toss a tennis ball for you to chase."

The sight of Fitz, relaxed and amused, kicked something warm and pleasurable open in Ward. Christ, he was pathetic. One day, and he was eager to please. Perhaps being compared to a fucking puppy was apt, after all.

"All right, what's the time frame?"

Fitz's answer made him raise an eyebrow. "Wow, May still really does hate me, doesn't she?"

Fitz winced and Ward wanted to kick himself for bringing up his dark past.

The course was grueling, nearly every trial had hidden traps and tricks that took him by surprise. As did how out of shape he'd become while he'd been imprisoned.

By lunch, he still hadn't completed the whole course, let alone the impossible time limit.

Fitz cheered him on, more excited than Ward when he figured out another obstacle. So different from the feedback Garrett would have given him. The way his SO would tear him down for every defeat and give him back-handed compliments that stung nearly as much for each success. Ward always thought he worked hard to improve to avoid the jeers and the punishments. But he found himself working twice as hard to be worthy of Fitz's praise. To hear more of it.

When he finished the course for the first time after lunch, he was nowhere close to the time parameter, but Fitz hugged him. A curl of something woke inside of Ward. A deep, hot pleasure from simply doing something to please Fitz. A need to do it again. And again.

It was a terrifying sensation, one that took his breath away. He forced himself to back away and tackle the course again.

He finished two more times, the second just under the time limit. Fitz waited at the finish line, pride and pleasure glowing in his face where he waited for Ward.

Automatically, Ward dropped to his knees next to Fitz, who blinked in surprise, but slid his fingers into Ward's hair. Ward wanted to purr, to press his face against Fitz's thigh. But he managed to regain a little self-control before completely giving in. The last thing he wanted was too seem too needy.

But Fitz smiled down at him, hand tugging gently until Ward leaned back slightly to face him.

Ward didn't know if he was doing it on purpose, or if Fitz's instincts were just that good. Either way, Ward was beginning to realize that Fitz might know what it took to condition him, after all.

He nearly offered to suck Fitz again. The words hovered on the edge of his tongue, sincere and hopeful. He hadn't stopped thinking about the feel of Fitz's fingers in his mouth and now he really wanted to show how good he could be.

But Fitz let go of his hair and stepped back.

"Let's head back to your room so you can shower, then we can get your reward, yeah?"

#

Fitz fidgeted while he waited for Ward to finish showering. He paced, then checked the contents of the case he'd brought back to the room with him. Then he double checked his tablet for any messages or updates.

A puff of steam preceded Ward out of the bathroom door, when he finally emerged. He'd already put on the clean pants that Fitz had pulled from the case and he was unfolding the t-shirt.

"Uh, don't bother putting that on," Fitz croaked, then cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away from perfectly sculpted abs to smile up at Ward. "I mean, I'm, uh. Giving you a massage. As part of your reward."

"You? A massage?"

"Hey, I've been told I have magic fingers," he wiggled them in front of his face, like that would prove anything.

Ward laughed, an honest amused chuckle that made Fitz grin wider. It was the first time Ward had made the sound since he'd arrived at the Playground.

"Go ahead and lay down."

Ward stretched out on the bed, hands tucked under his cheek. All the sculpted golden muscle on display made Fitz's mouth go dry. He turned away to grab the massage oil out of the case and took a couple of deep, gulped breaths to calm himself and remind his body this was about Ward. Not him.

He sat on the bed next Ward, knowing that straddling those slim hips was a bad idea all the way around. With the oil warmed in his palms, he began with soft, easy strokes. The muscles remained bunched and tense at first, and Ward kept his face turned, watching warily over his shoulder while Fitz touched him.

When Fitz started working deeper into the muscles, though, his eyes fluttered closed occasionally and a soft moan or sigh would escape his lips every now and then. When Fitz went to work on a particularly vicious knot under his shoulder blade, the sound of moaned pleasure Ward made went straight to Fitz's dick.

But after that, Ward was loose and pliant, his eyes stayed closed and he stop trying to stifle the soft noises he made. Fitz considered it another victory and kept up a steady, firm pace.

Once he'd worked every inch of Ward's shoulders and back, he let himself drift a little, with slow, soft up and down strokes. Let himself enjoy the feel of smooth, warm skin and honed muscle under his fingertips. Let himself pretend this was just two healthy adults enjoying each other's company.

A sharp knock on the door made him jump and crash back to reality. Ward went stiff and still next to him, eyes wide and wary and looking ready to be betrayed at any moment.

"Relax," Fitz said, patting Ward's shoulder. "It's just dinner."

He crossed the room, opened the door and picked up the covered tray Koenig had left behind. He turned to find that Ward had already slipped on his t-shirt and was standing, hands loose by his side, like he was ready for anything.

Fitz rolled his eyes, set the tray on the desk, secured the door then pulled off the lid.

"Ta-da! Dinner."

There were two plates, filled with steak, potatoes and salad.

"You like it medium rare, right? That one's yours," he pointed to a plate, then picked up the one with the steak that looked more like the well-done he preferred, along with one set of silverware, and dropped down to sit cross-legged on the floor. He really was going to need to talk to Coulson about some chairs or an end table or something.

Ward hesitated, looking from the tray to Fitz and back.

Eventually, he asked, "You're trusting me with a steak knife?"

Fitz looked up, showing as much confidence and surety as he could project.

"Yes."

Then he looked back at his plate, scooped up a bite of potatoes and enjoyed. Billy could really cook.

A minute later, Ward joined him on the floor and they ate in comfortable silence. When they finished, Fitz put his dishes back on the tray and bent over to rummage in the mini-fridge for a couple of cups of chocolate pudding. When he straightened, Ward's dinnerware, knife included, was on the tray next to his.

"Dessert," he said, handing the pudding to Ward with a flourish. "Also, you have your choice of movies. Expendables. James Bond. Or Cars. Unless you'd rather be alone. I can head back to my room, if you want some quiet time."

He waited, uncertain. Ward seemed to be getting comfortable with him, but Fitz didn't want to force too much togetherness, if it was going to set progress back.

"Cars?" Ward smiled, teasing lilt in his voice.

Fitz shrugged. "I like Pixar."

"Expendables. Please. Anything but animated vehicles."

They stretched out on Ward's bed, the tablet propped between them. It took a few minutes for both of them to relax, but, surprisingly, they did.

During a slow part of the movie, Fitz turned to look at Ward and asked, "So, any requests for reward dinner tomorrow night?"

"You're so sure I'm going to earn it?"

"Aren't you?"

Thoughtful silence stretched for a couple of minutes and Fitz wondered if he'd pushed too much. He tried to focus on the movie and not twitch with uneasiness.

"Any chance of butterscotch pudding instead of chocolate?"

"I'll see what I can do."

Two hours later, the movie credits were rolling and Ward's head was heavy on Fitz's shoulder, his breathing was soft and even.

As quickly and quietly as possible, Fitz slipped off the bed, picked up the dinner tray and his case and headed back to his room.

Wishing all the while he could stay, comfortable and warm next to Ward.

#

Ward woke the same way he had for nearly two weeks now. Reaching for Fitz.

Who was never there.

The pattern had been set that first night. Every day the same. Ward woke up alone, but Fitz would show up soon after with coffee and breakfast.

They'd head to the gym for whatever demonic training May had set up for the day and he'd work hard trying to prove he could take whatever was thrown at him. If he succeeded, there'd be a massage, dinner, dessert and movies with Fitz. On particularly good days, when he surpassed all expectations, there'd be a hand-job, again.

And on the few occasions when he failed, Fitz came back to his room long enough to eat dinner. Then he'd leave Ward alone, untouched, for the rest of the night.

Ward worked his ass off every day. Not for the rewards. Or even the orgasms. But for the time spent together. For the gentle touches and quiet conversation.

It made Ward feel almost normal, despite the cuffs, the cell, the confinement.

Except, Fitz never stayed the night. And he never let Ward touch him back.

_No one cares about you, Ward. No one but me. No one wants you but me. Face it. Without me, you'd be alone._

Garrett's voice haunted him more and more. But it was true. Fitz didn't really want him. He was a mission.

But Fitz was kind. And he was gentle. No one had ever been gentle with Ward. Not that he needed it. He certainly didn't expect it. It felt good, anyway.

_He knows your weaknesses, Ward. So pathetic. Toughen up. You belong to me. You owe me. Is this how you repay me? Betraying me to the people who killed me?_

Ward pushed himself out of bed, forced himself into the shower. He knew the voice wasn't real, but it wouldn't leave him alone. He had to listen.

Even when Fitz arrived, Ward's favorite bagel in hand, he couldn't shut off the non-stop stream of Garrett in the back of his head. Reminding him of what he'd been. What he owed. What could never be forgiven or even understood by someone like Fitz.

A reminder that everything was a lie.

The steady stream of Garrett's voiced continued to whisper, fueling anger and a sense of futility until it boiled under his skin.

In the gym, May had gone all out. It was the most ridiculous obstacle course yet. She was setting him up to fail. Fitz was letting her. He struggled through the first trial. One he'd done before, but he couldn't seem to get a handle on it as Garrett's voice kept at him. Made it impossible to concentrate. Impossible to gain control.

He hit the floor hard for a third time, felt yet another bruise bloom to life beneath his skin. Fitz frowned at him, disappointment in Ward obvious. Then he tapped a note into his tablet. No doubt telling the rest of the team Ward was useless. Pathetic.

_They'll give up on you soon, Ward. The way everyone else did. I was the only one that stuck by you. I'm the only one who will ever understand._

Ward gritted his teeth, ignored the voice and pushed to his feet. Fitz set the tablet down and walked over.

"Ward. You did this a few days ago. You're not even trying. What's the problem?"

Something snapped inside of him, the anger and frustration and fear twisting together until he couldn't swallow it down another second.

Grabbing hold of the front of Fitz's shirt, Ward pushed until he had Fitz pinned up against the wall, one arm pressed against his chest to hold him in place while the other snapped the key card from around his neck.

He let go, running for the door, knowing there was no way Fitz would ever keep up with him. A single swipe and he was through into the hallway.

Where the agony gripped him, dragging him to his knees and alarms pealed a violent song through the halls.

The pain and noise finally silenced the constant hum of Garrett in his head. With the silence came the darker, twisting pain of what he'd done. How much he'd thrown away.

Then Fitz was kneeling over him, anger and disappointment clear in his pinched expression. He sank his hand into Ward's hair, tight but not painful. Then he said whatever archaic password he used to shut off the cuffs and the alarms.

The quiet was terrifying in its own way while Fitz glared down at Ward. Then he sighed, hand twisting a little more in Ward's hair. 

"I have to punish you now, you know."

Ward closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. "I know. I'm sorry."

May and Tripp arrived, weapons drawn.

"Put the guns away. And help me get him back to his room."

May gave him a doubtful look, but reached down and yanked Ward back to his feet.

By the time they got back, the worst of the pain and weakness had left his muscles and Ward was walking on his own. There was a silent battle of will between Fitz and May but, eventually, the two SHIELD agents left them to enter the room alone.

As soon as the door closed, Fitz stepped away from him, crossed his arms and gave him an implacable, unreadable look.

"Strip."

Ward obeyed instantly, getting the clothes off as fast as he could.

"Kneel."

The breath caught in his lungs but he dropped to his knees. Fitz had never actually ordered him to do that. He'd done it before. Out of habit, at first, then because he liked the fond way Fitz looked at him when he did it.

That look wasn't there now, though. Ward shivered, chest tightening while he waited.

"Don't move. I'll be back."

Then, without another word, Fitz turned on his heel and walked out. Ward started to shake when the door closed and locked behind him.

_Pathetic. You're too weak even to be of use to a wimp like that—_

Ward stopped the voice, crushed it and shoved it away. He didn't know if he was going to get another chance, but if he did, he wasn't going to let Garrett fuck up his life. Again.

#

As soon as the door closed and locked behind him, Fitz leaned back against it, closed his eyes and gulped for air.

"Okay, Fitz?"

His eyes popped open to find Coulson standing there, holding one of the pre-packed cases he'd prepared. May stood off to the side, arms crossed and looking unimpressed, as usual.

"Yeah. I knew it was coming. Just a little more intense than I was prepared for."

Coulson tilted his head and studied Fitz. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"Yeah, I do."

He took a deep breath and stepped away from the door, taking the case away from Coulson. "I'm pretty sure that was actually a breakthrough."

"A breakthrough?"

"Yeah, he's been too calm. All the records made it clear that there would be an uptick in rebellion before settling into obedience. Their loyalty to the previous mentor vying with their changing allegiance."

Sinking disquiet settled in his gut, the past hour had made the whole thing real.

"I think Ward also needs to know that I have what it takes to take control. He doesn't trust himself, or, at least, what Garrett made him into. He needs to know that I can keep him in line."

"If you're sure?"

Fitz straightened his shoulder and did his best to project all the confidence he wasn't actually feeling.

"I'm sure."

"All right. Let us know if you need anything else."

Fitz nodded and waited until Coulson and May were well out of sight before letting his shoulders droop.

He'd known all along that what was coming next was a possibility but he still didn't know if he had what it took to go through with it.

It was about time to find out.

Gripping the case handle a little tighter, Fitz lifted his chin and unlocked the door.


	6. Chapter 6

By the time the electronic lock whirred again, Ward had managed to pull himself together. His muscles were tensed and still and the last nagging memory of Garrett had been exorcised from his mind.

He settled his expression into a blank, impassive mask when the door swung open, offering nothing of his inner turmoil. Projecting only a cool, calm demeanor.

Fitz had another one of those fucking cases. Often they held treats for Ward. Cookies. Movies. Books.

Somehow, he doubted there was anything in it he wanted, at the moment.

When Fitz set it on the desk and pulled a thick leather belt out of it, though, Ward had to choke back a laugh of disbelief. A bit of a cliché, to begin with. If they'd watched even half the stuff Garrett had done as a  _reward_  for good behavior, they'd know the belt wouldn't even register as a punishment on Ward's pain scale. He'd still been a teenager the last time he'd had anything that prosaic used on him.

He'd been trained by Garrett and SHIELD to endure torture and been interrogated by Talbot for weeks without breaking.

So he smirked and asked, "A belt? Not really your style. Did Coulson give you that?"

Fitz gave him a flat look. Ward hadn't realized how much he'd gotten used to the quick easy smile until it was withheld from him.

"May, actually. She gave it to me the first day you arrived."

"I'm sure she's disappointed you haven't used it yet." His lips twisted in disdain. "I'm sure she would have watched that part of the video over and over again."

Fitz furrowed his brow, opened his mouth, then shook his head and commanded, "On the bed, on all fours. Ass facing me."

Sharp, clipped and uncompromising.

Ward didn't hesitate, figuring he'd let Fitz do what he needed to do. Except, once in position his arms started to shake. Naked, unable to see Fitz, legs wide to brace himself, an overwhelming sense of vulnerability rocked him.

He looked back, searching for reassurance, but Fitz only scowled at him.

"Face forward."

The wall was blank and bland and he felt lost without the steady reassurance he'd gotten used to from Fitz.

He wanted to curl his fingers into fists, but the bed gave too much. If Fitz was really going to spank him with the belt, he was going to need stability to stay in place.

He refused to be a disappointment again.

The first strike took him by surprise. A sharp sting, the snap more startling than painful, rocked him forward slightly. Ward swallowed the gasp. He'd endure this.

A second followed quickly on the opposite side, catching the sensitive space where thigh and ass met. Fitz settled into a rhythm, and Ward caught his breath with the sting and bite of each strike. His breath came in whimpering gasps and he felt like he was breaking. All the while, his dick hardened with every slap of the belt, hanging thick and heavy and humiliating between his spread thighs.

It wasn't about the pain. It was about choice. Nothing held him in place but Fitz's command. His whole world narrowed down to shame and guilt, pain and desire. Narrowed down to Fitz.

Ward's eyes blurred, his vision smudged. It took him a second to realize it was tears, clouding everything and leaving warm tracks down his cheeks.

Garrett would have laughed to see how weak he was. A little remorse, a little pain and he was blatting like a girl.

No. Thinking about Garrett was what had gotten him into trouble. He was done with that part of his life.

Would Fitz forgive him? Ward had hurt him, frightened him. Disobeyed and disappointed him. Would he decide Ward was a lost cause and cut him loose? Leave him lost and alone again?

His hands gave way and Ward dropped to his elbows as possibilities and fear took his breath away. His ass burned and stung, another strike whistling hot and hard against his skin.

It was nothing compared to the terrifying ache and fear of being abandoned, alone and directionless again.

"I'm sorry. Sorry. Please. I'm sorry."

The belt stopped, pressed against the raised welts of his ass. It wasn't until the strikes stopped that Ward realized he was the one begging.

Fitz put one knee on the bed, bent over Ward, hand sliding into his hair and Ward closed his eyes for a second. Memorized the feel of Fitz's fingers, just in case he never felt them again. Then the hand tugged back, a little more forceful than usual.

He opened his eyes and met Fitz's grim stare. "What are you sorry for, Ward?"

He swallowed, trying to remember. He was overwhelmed by sensation. The hot pain of his skin, the smooth leather pressed into it. Fitz draped over him, holding him immobile with nothing but the hand in his hair. The heavy throb of his rock hard dick begging for attention between his thighs.

The fear of being left alone. Of proving, once and for all that he wasn't worth it. That no one could, or would, give a damn about him.

A deep shuddering breath, and he whispered. "For pushing. Running. I'm sorry for disobeying you. Disappointing you."

Fitz sighed and his hold loosened. Afraid Fitz was going to move, to walk away, Ward pressed himself closer, not even ashamed of how needy he must look.

But Fitz stayed next to him, actually leaned closer, his breath ghosting across Ward's ear.

"Why? Why did you do it?"

"You haven't been disappointed in me yet. You haven't seen me weak."

The words spilled out, honest emotion he hadn't even acknowledged to himself before this moment. "I need to know if, if…"

He couldn't put it into words. Didn't want to admit how pathetic and needy he was.

"You wanted to know if it was going to end," Fitz finished for him. "You wanted to know if I thought you were worth the effort."

He choked, throat tight and sore.

"If it was going to end, it needed to be sooner, rather than later," Ward whispered.

"It's not going to end, Grant. You're mine. I'm staying and so are you."

Everything went loose in him. He believed Fitz.

Ward waited, expecting Garrett's voice to chime in. But it was gone.

Fitz stood up and Ward bit his lip to keep from whining in protest. Then Fitz paused, "The rest of your punishment is no touching yourself."

Ward felt his face flame into a hot blush for the first time since he was a teenager.

Behind him, Fitz rustled in the case, no doubt putting the belt away before coming back to the bed.

"Lay down on your stomach," he said, hand resting gently between Ward's shoulder blades.

When he did, he groaned, tensing his whole body an effort to control himself. All he wanted to do was rub against the sheets and ease the need to get off. It didn't help when Fitz started slowly stroking his fingers over Ward's ass, rubbing in something thick and cool.

"The lineament should sooth the worst of the pain and speed healing."

Eventually, Ward's body relaxed and the worst of the discomfort eased until he drifted in relief of having Fitz still by his side.

"May has no idea whether or not I've used the belt on you." Fitz's words were almost a whisper. "No one does. There are no reports. No cameras in here or in the gym. Nothing. Only you and I know what goes on in here."

Fitz inhaled and let the breath out slowly. Then he stretched out on the bed next to Ward.

"Just you and me, Grant. If I trust you, they will."

Ward licked his lips, carefully considering what he wanted to say. Not wanting to change Fitz's mind, but needing to know he was sure.

"That's a heavy weight of responsibility."

Fitz turned his head and offered Ward a small smile. The first one Ward had seen from him since breakfast. "One I'm willing to take."

"I won't fuck up again," he promised. "I'll be good."

"I know," Fitz said and rubbed his shoulder, then slid his hand down to rest at the small of Ward's back. "I know."

Ward drifted off to sleep, comforted by the soothing circles Fitz drew against his skin.

#

As soon as Fitz walked into the room with breakfast the next morning, a naked and slightly damp Ward dropped to his knees. His eyes locked onto Fitz and didn't move, a hint of relief and residual fear flitted around the edges of his usually stoic expression.

Fitz's first inclination, like always, was to tell Ward to get up. That he didn't need to do that. But something in the way Ward always looked, a little hopeful and a little like he was waiting to be rejected, made Fitz hold his tongue.

Instead, he set the food and fresh clothes down and moved closer until he stood over Ward. He let his hand tangle in dark hair and savored the way Ward relaxed into it. Glad that Ward seemed to find the simple touch as soothing as he did.

Ward started to lean into him, then hesitated, eyes darting down in uncertainty. Fitz brought his other hand up to rub against Ward's temple, nudging gently to let him know it was all right.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

Fitz knew his strength was a joke compared to things Ward had endured, but coupled with reaction to the cuff's punishment and the emotional fallout, he'd stayed awake most of the night worrying that he shouldn't have left Ward alone once he'd fallen asleep.

"Fine. A little sore." He looked up at Fitz, bit his lip then added, "I feel better than I have in a long time, though."

His face was solemn and serious as he stared hard at Fitz, like he was willing him to understand. And he did. Or, at least, he hoped he did. Admitting even that much was a serious act of trust and Fitz wasn't going to let him down.

Trailing his fingers down from Ward's temple to stroke softly across his cheekbone, Fitz held his eyes and pushed as much emotion into the look as he could.

"Good. Don't ever make me do that again," he ordered, putting as much confident command into it as he could.

Ward shivered, dropping his eyes and it sparked something in Fitz. Something primal, possessive and protective. The grip on Ward's hair tightened and his other hand drifted down, fingers stroking over Ward's lips. They parted slightly in invitation and Fitz wanted to push in. To claim his mouth with touch.

But he remembered the way Ward had come, sucking on his fingers that first night like his life depended on it.

As much as he wanted to feel that again, to give in to the way Ward was looking at him right now, Fitz couldn't. Ward had to earn his rewards or they meant nothing to him.

So he moved his fingers down to press against Ward's jaw and did his best to smirk knowingly at the defeated sigh while hiding his own disappointment.

"I'm afraid breakfast is only toast and boiled eggs this morning, but—" Fitz started, dropping his hand and half-turning toward the desk.

"Baltimore," Ward blurted out, interrupting Fitz's train of thought.

"What?"

"Baltimore. The bomb. Operation: Revelation. It's in an abandoned bank in Baltimore."

Fitz froze, body and mind trying to wrap itself around the sudden revelation. Ward's eyes were wide, his face pale, and breath rushing. He looked terrified.

Of course he did, he'd just given up the only leverage he had. As far as he knew, it could mean the end of everything for him. Fitz's heart thudded into overtime.

"Good boy," he murmured and the look of pleasure and relief made him want to give Ward something more.

He slid his thumb over Ward's bottom lip, then pushed slowly in until it was sunk as deep as it could go. Ward sucked softly, eyes closing and face smoothing out into rapt bliss. His tongue licked delicately at first, then twisted erotically around Fitz.

The slick heat, the perfect tension, the expert touch made Fitz's body burn. He knew, the next time Ward offered to suck his dick as a distraction, it was going to be nearly impossible to say no.

He pulled his thumb out and Ward's eyes popped open, a soft whine of protest started before he cut himself off.

Fitz only chuckled smugly and slid his first two fingers into the wet heat, hard and fast and deep.

He knew he needed to go talk to the others, but he could afford a few minutes. Both he and Ward deserved it after the 24 hours they'd endured.

#

After Fitz left to talk to the team, Ward paced the room trying not to think too hard about what was going on beyond his four walls. For a few moments, the world had shrunk to just the two of them. The feel of Fitz's hand in his hair, the taste of his skin on Ward's tongue. The connection had been real and deep and safe and Ward had wanted to stay in that moment forever.

But it had ended all too soon, Fitz disappearing out the door with an order to get dressed.

Garrett's voice was gone. Nothing had held him back from giving Fitz what he wanted. Nothing but his own fear.

He'd wanted to give Fitz everything. Wanted to give him the one piece of information that would prove his loyalty beyond a shadow of a doubt. Giving someone what they wanted most, though, meant risking that they no longer needed you.

Ward didn't want to be abandoned again. Didn't want Fitz to be someone else who got what they wanted then left him to flounder in the sea of trouble they'd created for him.

Like his family. Like Garrett.

The longer he paced, alone and silent in the room, the more panic tried to steal its way inside him. What if Fitz didn't come back? What if the next person through that door was someone else? Someone taking him back to prison?

Then the door opened and Fitz, still grinning with excitement was waving him through.

"C'mon. Let's go."

The corridor Fitz led him down was unfamiliar and Ward's nerves tensed. He couldn't ask the real question. Couldn't ask if Fitz was sending him away.

Instead, he said. "This isn't the usual way to the gym."

Fitz furrowed his brow, looking at Ward like he was crazy. "We're not going to the gym. The rest of the team is waiting in the war room for us to talk about Baltimore."

"Uh, the whole team?"

"Of course."

 Facing the team after everything was going to be hard enough. Facing the team with Fitz watching, being reminded of how much he should hate Ward was going to be shattering.

"I— Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked, slowing his pace slightly.

Fitz stopped, stepped in front of him and put his hands on Ward's shoulders.

"Yes," he said, softly and sincerely. "I'm sure. It's not going to be easy, but it's necessary. I'll be by your side the whole time."

"I can kneel," he offered, uncomfortable with the idea of showing weakness in front of people who had a grudge but also knowing he had a lot to prove. "To show my loyalty."

"The kneeling thing, that's just us. You'll sit in a chair like everyone else. You're my responsibility. Not my pet."

Ward swallowed against the lump in his throat and nodded, following when Fitz set off at a fast pace.

In the war room, things weren't quite as dire as he'd been expecting. There were no shouted threats or recriminations.

May was as silently, icily disapproving as she had been every time he'd seen her. Koenig occasionally shot him a poisonous glare. Coulson welcomed him warmly if reservedly. Everyone else eyed him warily, but ignored him for the most part. They all settled in and focused on the information.

Koenig discussed the most recent intel they had on potential HYDRA movement in the Baltimore area. Skye brought up satellite photos and the blueprints on file for the abandoned bank so that they could be compared.

They sketched out the possible layout and potential weaknesses as best they could with the information on hand. When they were done, Coulson turned to Ward.

"How accurate do you think our assessment is?"

"Uh, I haven't been there in about two years. It's pretty close to the way I remember it. Anyone else who knew about it, though, has had a couple of months to update security and change things around."

Coulson pursed his lips and nodded.

"Okay. We'll try to get some more activity updates, quietly. I don't want this bomb falling into anyone's hands but ours, so we're going to have to keep this just to our team. Can you tell Fitz everything you know to help us get in and out fast?"

The idea of Fitz going in without him made him sick with fear. He needed to be there, to protect Fitz. He wasn't willing to risk letting anything happen to him.

"It'll be better if I go in with you."

"I don't think that's a good idea," May spoke up for the first time.

Ward leaned forward, striving for professional and detached.

"Garrett built back doors into everything he could get his hands on. If they've changed any security protocols, I'll know how to get around it. But I'll need to be there to see what's changed, in order to know the work-around."

It wasn't exactly true, he could probably give Fitz enough information to manage without him but Ward hoped no one would question it too closely.

May started to protest, but Coulson interrupted. "We have time to make that decision. We need more intel before going in and time to set up contingency plans in case anything goes wrong."

He paused, shuffled a file from the bottom of the stack in front of him, then looked up speculatively.

"Instead of sending Fitz with Tripp into that possible Cybertek storehouse we uncovered, we can send Ward in, instead. A test run on a less important target."

Everyone in the room erupted at once, arguing the possibilities, the potentials and the pitfalls.

Everyone except Ward, Coulson and Fitz.

Finally, Coulson cleared his throat. When that didn't seem to get anyone's attention, he stood up and did it with more volume.

When the shouting finally trailed into silence, he pressed his palms into the table and leaned forward.

"There's only one person who's opinion matters. Fitz, do you trust Ward to have your back?"

Ward's stomach clenched, but Fitz didn't hesitate, just lifted his chin and said, "Absolutely."

 


	7. Chapter 7

Ward checked his weapons in the slim street light illuminating the delivery door of the warehouse while Fitz used one his gadgets to bypass security.

The intel Koenig gathered suggested the computer refurbishing company who owned the building was a front for Cybertek. And that abandoned projects and files might be stored inside. According to the reports, there was a small contingent of security, though bigger than one would consider necessary to guard obsolete computer parts. And better trained than the average rent-a-cop.

Their job was to get inside, discover if it was a front for Cybertek and if there was anything dangerous or informative that needed to be cleared out.

"Bingo," Fitz murmured and the red light on the tool in his hand flashed green. Ward reached for the door but Fitz stopped him.

"This is intel gathering only, Ward. No killing."

Ward nodded. "Got it. No death, except to protect you."

"No. Not even then. No killing at all. That's an order."

Ward shivered, a bad feeling crawling up his spine but he couldn't argue. Fitz was in charge. Even without being allowed to kill, though, he'd find a way to protect him. No matter what.

The uneasiness faded, though. They made their way through the warehouse, using Fitz drones, getting to the vault without being discovered.

Inside, half-built weapons, tools and things Ward couldn't identify were neatly stacked and labeled on row after row of shelves. Tucked in the corner by the door, an older looking computer blinked a request for a password.

Fitz grinned and gave a fist pump, sat down in front of the keyboard and cracked his knuckles. "Let's see what HYDRA secrets are hiding on this baby."

Ward smirked at him. "I don't think they were dumb enough to use the address as a password. How do you expect to get into the files?"

Fitz held up a flash drive like it was Excalibur. "Skye gave me this, just in case. Should crack almost anything Cybertek's got."

He plugged the drive into the computer with a flourish and the screen went black. Fitz frowned.

"Wait. That's not supposed to happen—"

Alarms blared throughout the warehouse and Ward tensed, for a second expecting excruciating pain before remembering this wasn't the Playground.

Fitz blinked at the flashing red lights and Ward grabbed his wrist, dragging him to his feet.

"C'mon," he growled, "Let's get out of here."

They ran through the halls, the sound of pursuit closing in on them. Then they rounded a corner, the door to escape in sight. Unfortunately, five security guards stood between them and freedom.

Ward shoved Fitz behind him and dove forward, taking on all five at once. Remembering his orders, he used his gun as a blunt weapon, along with every technique he'd learned from Garrett and May and SHIELD. Plus a few dirty tricks he'd picked up on his own.

He had four down in no time. He spun, looking for the fifth.

But the guard had Fitz, one arm tight around his throat, revolver aimed at his head.

Ward raised his own gun, aiming between the man's eyes.

"Ward, no," Fitz said, raw and hoarse.

His hand didn't waver, but his will did. He couldn't disobey even though everything in him screamed to protect Fitz.

With a shuddering breath, he set the gun on the floor.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking up from where he crouched a yard away from Fitz's feet.

Fitz looked relieved, the guard looked smug and shifted his weapon to point down at Ward.

As soon as Fitz was out of the line of fire, Ward surged, knocking the gun-hand further off to the side with one forearm, while he shoved Fitz out of the way with the other hand.

The guard recovered quickly, taking Ward to the floor while they fought for control of the gun. He felt the trigger squeeze, heard the clack of the hammer and braced for pain that never came.

"Stop. Enough. It's over."

Coulson's voice echoed through the warehouse and the guard stopped fighting.

Ward rolled him over, crouched above him and raised his fist—

"Ward, stop. Don't." Fitz's soft words made him freeze.

He blinked around and saw Coulson helping a couple of the other guards to their feet, Tripp looking amused and impressed and May shaking her head.

Fitz was next to Ward, hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.

He shifted off the guard, and looked up at Fitz, his brain catching up with what was going on around them.

"Coulson really meant the 'test' part of test run, huh?"

Fitz shrugged sheepishly. "Yeah. Sorry. They cleared out the actual Cybertek personnel last week."

Ward looked around again and rolled his shoulders back, a trickle of doubt and unease cooling the heat of adrenaline in his blood.

"I passed, right?" he asked, then cleared his throat. "You only said I couldn't kill. You didn't say anything about doing everything else possible to protect you."

Fitz hand shifted slightly, his thumb brushing against Ward's cheekbone and he smiled.

"You definitely passed. You did good, Ward."

He shuddered at the words and tilted his head into Fitz touch.

#

Ward had only had a moment to bask in the pride and pleasure Fitz had been glowing with. Then the team had hustled back to base. He'd endured the debrief and a second round of debate about him like he wasn't even there.

His skin felt too tight, his jaw ached from clenching it so hard while he'd listened to them talk around him, about him and over him. Until Coulson and Fitz had put their foot down and called it a night.

It was a relief, when he finally walked back into his room with Fitz right behind him.

With a sigh, Ward turned to face Fitz and automatically dropped to his knees, tilted his head back and let his own pleased smirk slide into place.

"So, what's my reward?"

Half joking and half eager, he raised an eyebrow and let a little of his sense of smugness show through.

Fitz laughed, head thrown back, looking more relaxed and free than he had since this started. Ward's blood rushed at the sight, and he promised himself he would work harder to make this easier for Fitz.

"Why don't we start with some butterscotch pudding and see how it goes?"

He reached into the fridge and grabbed two cups. He half turned toward Ward and paused. His smile took on an edge and a heat that made Ward's blood rush for an entirely different reason, then Fitz put one of the cups back and stood up.

Leaning against the desk, he peeled back the lid and tossed it aside. Then Fitz dipped two fingers into the cup, scooping out a dollop of sweet pudding and held out his hand.

Ward's mouth went dry, his stomach swooped in anticipation and he shuffled forward on his knees.

His mouth closed around the offering with an embarrassing moan. Greedily, he sucked at every drop of sweetness, licking along, between and over every inch of skin. Savoring the flavor of butterscotch and salt and  _Fitz_  on his tongue.

When Fitz pulled his cleaned fingers free, Ward whimpered in protest. But Fitz scooped up more pudding and slid back between Ward's parted lips like his fingers belonged there.

They repeated the ritual over and over again until the cup was empty and Ward was hard.

Fitz set the container aside, looking satisfied and glazed while stared down at Ward and asking, "What else do you want for your reward?"

"Can I suck you?"

It had been all he'd been thinking about and the question burst out before he could think better of it.

Uncertainty crowded out some of the pleasure glowing in Fitz's face and Ward sat back on his heels, looking down. Looking anywhere but at Fitz as he backtracked.

"Or a massage. A massage would be fine. Good. I know you don't want me to touch you."

He'd let himself forget for a minute that this wasn't mutual. That he was a project and a burden not something… more.

"Hey," Fitz whispered, his fingers sliding along Ward's jaw, lifting so their eyes met. "I want. I have since the first time you offered. Before, even, if I'm honest. I need to be sure it's what you really want, though. I need you to be sure, too."

"I'm sure." Ward licked his lips and let everything he felt, everything he needed, show in his desperate expression. "I want… Please?"

Fitz unfastened his belt and pants one handed, then pushed his clothes out of the way while stroking his thumb along Ward's mouth.

Fitz was already half-hard and slowly stroking himself while he teased Ward by pressing only the tip of his thumb in and out of his mouth.

Ward's hand came up, tentatively wrapping his own fingers around Fitz's dick. Fitz moaned and let go, steadying himself with a hand on Ward's shoulder while Ward took over the slow strokes.

Leaning forward, Ward mouthed along the underside of the heavy cock, tasting every inch of its length before sucking in the tip. He let the weight rest on his tongue, let his mouth form a perfect cradle for it then slid down the entire length.

Fitz bucked a little and then held himself still. Ward went slow at first dragging himself along Fitz's dick in a measured pace, pausing occasionally suck hard, cheeks hollowing obscenely before pulling almost off and starting the whole rhythm over again.

Then Fitz sank his hands into Ward's hair, fingers twisting tight, and Ward moaned, shivering at the neediness crawling through him. His own dick begged for attention but he ignored, bent on giving every bit of pleasure he could manage to Fitz.

"Ward, I'm close. Fuck." His voice was harsh, hoarse and pleading.

A bolt of sweet pleasure lodged itself in Ward's chest, swelling and spilling through him. He took Fitz as deep as he could go. Using his tongue to map out the spots that made him moan and gasp and shake, used his one hand to stroke the shaft in a quick, tight rhythm.

Fitz cried out, arching his hips and pushing his dick in deeper, body shaking when he came. The first hot splash of bitter salt was more than Ward could take. He dropped his hand to his own throbbing dick, stroked himself through the fabric. It took only a second for his body to follow Fitz's lead. He moaned around the softening dick in his mouth body going lax as he came in his pants.

The hands in his hair loosened and Fitz pulled back, dick sliding free of Ward's lips.

"Okay," Fitz said, breathless and panting. "Okay. That was… yeah. Did you?"

Spent and exhausted, Ward didn't even bother trying to form words. He smiled blissfully at Fitz and nodded.

"Okay," Fitz repeated, looking both shocked and pleased with himself. "I'm gonna… why don't you get undressed and I'll be right back."

Ward blinked, not wanting to move, but wanting to get out of the already uncomfortable clothing. As soon as he was naked, he sank back to his knees and waited.

Fitz came back in nothing but his boxer and holding a damp cloth. Once they were both clean, Fitz leaned down and pressed his mouth to Ward's. It was quick and sweet and over before Ward could process it.

"C'mon. Let's get you in bed. It's been a long day and we're both exhausted."

Bemused, Ward followed Fitz's guiding hands. As soon as he sank into the mattress, he started to drift off, lost in the feeling of Fitz rubbing slow circles on his stomach.

Ward woke up, hours later, hands reaching out, like usual, before he could remind himself there was no one there.

Except, there was a heavy weight on his shoulder, something slung over his waist and warmth all along his side. Prying open his eyes, he held his breath when he saw Fitz's curly hair and peaceful expression.

Fitz was here. Still. He'd stayed.

And he'd kissed Ward.

It may not mean anything, to Fitz. But it was something that Ward was going to keep. A sense memory he'd hold onto, bury deep and cherish. He didn't know how long he'd get to stay here. Didn't know if he'd ever get to have it again. If it was simply part of the reward. If it was, he would do everything in his power to earn it again.

It wasn't something to dwell on, it was something to enjoy for as long as he could.

Ward let the arm under Fitz's shoulder drift down to his waist and tugged him closer. Fitz didn't wake, but snuggled deeper into Ward's shoulder, sighing contentedly.

If this was all he ever had, it was enough. It was more than he ever expected.

#

A week later, Fitz and Ward were in place, waiting for Coulson's signal before making entry into the building hiding the bomb. 

Ward doubled-checked his weapons and mentally steeled himself for the conversation he had to have with Fitz.

Unable to put it off, he swallowed and looked at Fitz.

"We're not going to be facing SHIELD agents pretending to be rent-a-cops in there. They're desperate HYDRA agents who are capable of anything. It's going to be dangerous…"

Fitz put his hand on Ward's wrist. "Protect me, Grant. Protect the team, however you need to. Just, uh, only what's necessary. Nothing gratuitous, huh?"

Relief flooded through him and he smirked to cover it up. "Define gratuitous."

Fitz rolled his eyes but Coulson's signal interrupted whatever he was going to say.

The infiltration went according to plan, and they managed to avoid most of the personal and take down the few they came across without serious violence.

Everything was perfect right up until they met up with the rest of the team at the entrance to the room where the bomb was secured.

The security system had been upgraded well beyond anything any of them had expected. Fitz and Skye both looked it over, but they didn't have the knowledge to disable it quickly or the time to figure it out.

"Fitz, they used the original wiring and door mechanism when they upgraded the security, right?" Ward asked, looking at the metal tiles that made up the wall around the door.

"Well, yeah, but it has its own secondary power source. Cutting power won't do any good."

Ward hummed in agreement and asked, "Have you got a screw driver on you?"

"Yeah, but fiddling with that is just going to put everything in lock-down mode."

Ward held out his hand and smirked. "Trust me."

Fitz smiled back and didn't even hesitate to drop the tool in his hand.

Stepping to the opposite side of the door from the security panel, Ward counted over three panels and up two. In less than a minute, he had the panel open to reveal and numeric keypad set amidst a tangle of wires.

He smirked up at Fitz who grinned at him with pride. Then his face smoothed out into a more serious expression when he looked back at the rest of the team.

"Okay, this is the real test. Do you trust me or do you want to try to find another way in?"

Coulson opened his mouth, but May stepped up to his shoulder and beat him to it. "Do it."

Ward's eyebrows lifted in surprised and he glanced at Fitz, who gave him a one shoulder shrug and slight nod.

With a deep breath, praying this wasn't something else Garrett had lied to him about, Ward punched in the code that should work.

It was a terrifyingly long second before the heavy door slid open with a loud, grinding sound.

A large mass of steel and wires dominated one corner of the room. Ward had no idea exactly what it was or what it would do, but he was pretty sure if it went off this close to him, he wouldn't feel a thing. Next to it, a stringy haired woman in a lab coat frantically pressed buttons on a control panel while a bald man in a tweed coat Ward vaguely recognized screamed at her.

A dozen armed HYDRA soldiers jumped to attention and demanded his focus. He closed in the first group, hoping they were smart enough not to fire their weapons indiscriminately in a room holding a giant bomb.

Behind him Coulson shouted orders. "Skye, FitzSimmons, don't let them arm that thing. The rest of us will cover you."

Ward's heart lurched, instincts insisting he should be with Fitz. But common sense won out. He'd be of more use protecting him by taking out the threat. The fight was hard and fast and brutal. HYDRA was desperate but the SHIELD team was fierce and determined. When the last of the soldiers had been dealt with, Ward turned, immediately seeking out Fitz and the others to reassure himself.

Jemma was standing over a twitching tweed-coat guy, tazer ready to zap him again. Skye and Fitz were working over the bomb's control panel. Behind them, the woman in the lab coat was getting to her feet, one of the soldiers discarded guns shaking in her hand. Aimed directly at Fitz's back.

"Fitz!"

The scream tore from his throat, his weapon up and trained for a head shot. At the last second, the voice in Ward's head scolded him and he jerked, firing.

Blood bloomed in her shoulder and she screamed, gun dropping to the floor and clutching at the bullet wound.

Panting with fear, Ward raced across the room. Somewhere in there, it occurred to him that voice he'd heard wasn't the one he was used to. It wasn't Garrett's any means necessary spiel that over-rode his first instinct.

It had been Fitz's compassion and faith.

As soon as he could touch Fitz, he checked him over, looking for any signs of injury.

"I'm fine, Ward. Thanks to you." Then he leaned around him to announce to the rest of team, "Also, the bomb is deactivated."

Then he hugged Ward and they held on tight to each other in relief. When Skye and Simmon's joined the embrace, he was startled but hugged them back, as well.

 


	8. Chapter 8

The mood on the Bus was exuberant despite everyone's exhaustion. Teasing and laughter and overwhelming, relieved joy filled the air. Food and dishes littered the lounge while they relaxed and chatted and took the opportunity to breathe easy.

Most importantly, to Fitz, the team was coming around about Ward.

It still wasn't like before, of course. Everyone was still a little bit leery. But they weren't outright angry and distrustful anymore, either.

Jemma picked up the chip bowl and frowned down at its emptiness with a sigh.

"I guess it's my turn to refill this," she said, and stood up, gathering a few other dishes.

"I'll help you," Fitz offered, taking some of her burden and following her into the galley.

It had been a while since they'd worked side by side. Filling chip bowls wasn't the same as making miraculous breakthroughs in the lab, but it felt good to hum in unison, moving in and out of each other's space on instinct.

"So, what's next for Ward?"

Fitz froze, surprised and uncertain.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," she paused and studied him, apparently not expecting his startled reaction. "I mean, the reclaiming process worked, obviously. You don't have to babysit him anymore. The secondary test subjects only needed to be reinforced by their mentors occasionally."

"Right…"

The word dragged out of him, a weight he hadn't expected settled on him. He hadn't really thought beyond the next moment since this started. He should be happy for Ward, but all he could think was how much he was going to miss spending every day with him.

"You should talk to Coulson. He's setting up some teams out of the SHIELD personnel he's been gathering back into the fold." Something must have shown on Fitz's face, because she patted his shoulder. "Or maybe it would be better to find him a civilian job and someplace to settle. Get him away from this life altogether."

A throat cleared in the doorway and Coulson looked somewhat sheepish for startling them.

"Skye and Tripp are about to come to blows over the last corn dog. Simmons why don't you take your tray out and help Fitz with the rest."

Unspoken but obvious was that Coulson wanted to have a word alone with him.

"Uh, right, of course." Jemma swept up the tray and hurried out, giving Fitz a last, sympathetic look before leaving them alone. 

Fitz took a shaky breath and braced his hands on the counter. "She's right. What happens to Ward now?"

"That depends," Coulson answered. "What does Ward want?"

"His freedom," Fitz said automatically.

Coulson crossed his arms and tilted his head. "Are you sure?"

Coulson's patient expression made Fitz reconsider. He thought back to the conversations they'd had and realized he had no idea what Ward wanted. No idea how he expected the future to play out.

"Ask him, Fitz. Don't try to guess."

He stood there confused and torn, until Coulson stepped up next to him and patted him on the shoulder.

"What if he doesn't want to stay? What happens to him?"

"Simmon's was right. There are a lot of options. A SHIELD team. Working in Ops or helping with training. Finding him a place in civilian life. He doesn't have to stay at the Playground"

"No."

Ward's voice, choked and raw made Fitz spin around.

Coulson smiled sadly, scooped up the second tray from in front of him and walked out to give them privacy.

"Ward?"

"You said you'd stay. If I didn't fuck up, it could be you and me. That you were willing to be responsible for me."

Ward's eyes pressed closed for a second and he drew a ragged breath before looking at Fitz, like he'd already lost but had to try anyway.

"I didn't fuck up, yet."

Fitz felt his own heart twist. Thought about what Ward had endured. Abandoned over and over. Controlled and maneuvered and betrayed by everyone who'd ever pretended to care about him. Fitz wouldn't take another choice away from him.

Coulson told him to ask. It was probably the best advice he'd get.

"What do you want, Ward? Do you want to stay with me?"

 He ducked his head, looked down, away from Fitz. "I don't want to be a burden to you."

It wasn't an answer and this was too important for Fitz to let him get away with that.

"We've established you don't always get what you want from me. But you still have to be honest with me. Tell me the truth."

He kept his voice soft but still made it a command. "Tell me what you want."

"To stay. With you. Protect you. Help you." He sounded raw, wide open. So use to disappointment, it hurt him to admit it.

Fitz stepped closer. "I didn't want to assume anything. I didn't want to take advantage… of this."

He waved his hand between them, trying to encompass the whole fucked up situation.

Ward's lips quirked, but there wasn't much humor. "Everyone has taken advantage. And I didn't even know it. You are the only one who's ever given a damn."

"I'm not the only one. They care, too," he said, gesturing toward the team in the lounge.

"Maybe. Now. Because you were willing to believe in me. Willing to put the effort into putting me back together."

Ward slid down to his knees, and Fitz felt a little embarrassment at the automatic warmth that spread through him.

"Don't send me away, Fitz. Let me stay."

"Of course." He slid his hand into thick dark hair and they both relaxed at the touch. He pulled Ward's head against his thigh and exhaled. "Don't think I'm unselfish enough to actually have let you go, anyway."

Ward shivered under his hand and murmured something unintelligible against Fitz's pants.

"What was that?"

Ward shifted back slightly, but his eyes dropped to Fitz's feet.

"You told me to tell you what I want." He took a deep breath then looked up. "I want you to claim me."

"Claim you?" Fitz choked a little, not sure Ward was really asking what he thought he was asking.

"Claim me," he repeated, confident and sure, now. "Fuck me. Make me yours."

Fuck. Fitz had to breathe deep and think about the time May tried to teach him self-defense to get his body back under control.

"Are you sure?"

Ward rolled his eyes, smirking and relaxing even more.

"You ordered me to tell the truth about what I wanted, remember?" Then some of the confidence shifted, uncertainty creeping in. "If you don't want to, I understand."

"Christ, Grant. I definitely want it." He shouldn't. After everything Garrett had done… But Garrett had made it about him and about control. Fitz could make it all about Ward and pleasure. "But, uh, the Bus galley is probably not the best place to have this conversation."

Fitz tightened his grip in Ward's hair and slid his other hand along Ward's jaw to lift his face up.

"Later, though." Fitz promised, letting his need and desire burn through the words.

Ward's eyes darkened and he nodded his head slightly in Fitz's hold, agreement in every line. "Later.

#

They were the last ones off the Bus and Ward automatically turned toward the corridor that would take them toward his room. Fitz stopped him before he took more than two steps, though.

"Wait. Give me your hands."

Ward responded automatically, holding out his arms.

Fitz slid his hands under them, fingers gripping the metal cuffs. He muttered a command, the lights flashed once before the metal split open. The cuffs slid off into Fitz's waiting grasp.

Ice cold panic stopped the air in Ward's lungs and he wanted to clutch them back, demand Fitz lock them back in place. He felt naked, untethered.

"Grant? Are you okay?"

He swallowed, forced himself to calm. "Yeah. Sorry, it's just. They're a symbol. That I belong to you. It's fine. Just need to shift my thinking a little."

"Okay," Fitz said, drawing out the word while giving Ward a measuring look. He pulled a marker out of his pocket and drew directions on Ward's palm. Then he added a six digit number.

"That's how to get to my room and the code to get in. Get a shower and get comfortable. I'll be there but I might be a little bit, okay?"

"Okay."

Fitz smiled, closed his hands tight around the cuffs and walked away. Ward watched him, awed and frightened by the trust and freedom.

Then he gathered himself, looked at his hand and went in search of Fitz's room. When he found it, it was bigger than the one Ward had been using, of course. A queen size bed dominated. The desk was covered with bits and pieces of half completed projects.

Uncertain, but trusting in Fitz, Ward followed orders, stripping down and taking a long, invigorating shower. When he was done, he considered climbing on the bed and waiting, but Fitz had only said they'd talk about it later and he didn't want to be presumptuous.

So he dropped, naked, to his knees next to the bed and waited.

When Fitz finally arrived, he was carrying yet another one of those cases. He licked his lips, and looked Ward over, letting his eyes linger in a way he never had before. Then he shoved stuff out of the way on the desk to set the case down, dug out condoms and lube and tossed them on the bed.

 Fitz stepped right in front of Ward, both hands shoving deep in his hair.

"Last chance to change your mind, Grant."

Ward stared up at him, putting all his certainty and need in the hot look. "Not gonna' happen. I want this."

Fitz's mouth claimed his, a long, sweet lingering kiss. With a moan, Fitz pulled back, looking as dazed and pleasure-drugged as Ward felt.

"On the bed, face up, hands behind your head.

His dick, half-hard from the kiss, twitched and filled a little more while he scrambled to obey. He had to bite his lip while he watched Fitz hastily stripping off his clothes. 

Once finished, Fitz climbed up next to Ward and rested one hand lightly on Ward's hip.

"Can you keep your hands like that, or do I need to tie you?"

Ward's whole body jerked and he gripped his hands hard, "I can do what I'm told."

"Good," Fitz stroked his hip, looking pleased. Liquid warmth soaked through Ward, twining with the sharp need already taking over his body. "Anything you don't like, tell me. I mean it. It won't be good for me if it's not good for you. Got it?"

"Yeah," Ward whispered, the hand stoking over his hip distracting.

Then Fitz slid down the bed, settling between Ward's legs, mouth sliding over the head of his dick and he inhaled sharply, fighting to keep his hips still.

Fitz took his time, mouthing over his dick, touching it with lips, tongue and fingers. Watching every response and repeating the things that made Ward moan or whimper or cry.

It wasn't Ward's first blow job. But it was the first time it had been done with loving gentleness and thorough attention.

When Ward was shaking and moaning almost continuously, Fitz slid off with a last, deep suck. He sat back on his heels and trailed his lightly over the sensitive skin of Ward's thighs.

"Okay?"

Ward wanted to say hell no, he wasn't okay. Wanted to beg him not to stop. To keep going. But Fitz looked intense and sure and he'd promised to make it good. Ward trusted Fitz to keep his word.

"Okay."

Fitz's hands firmed on his skin, slipped under his knees and pushed his legs up, stretching them toward his hips and outward. Until he was wide open and on display, his most sensitive parts completely on exposed to Fitz's heated intense gaze.

He was uncomfortable for a moment. Vulnerable.

But the longer Fitz looked, the more Ward realized he was okay being vulnerable for Fitz. The way his already full dick hardened a little more, the way his skin shivered and ached, the way he wanted to beg and yet be completely still for Fitz's pleasure told him he was more than okay with it.

He wanted this.

Fitz let go and Ward strained to stay where he was put. He was rewarded when Fitz leaned down and took his dick deep into the hot, sleek suction of his mouth. He bobbed in a smooth, perfect rhythm while one hand reached out and scrambled for the lube.

Ward nearly choked on the whimper when he felt Fitz's slick thumbs slide down his skin, settling on either side of his hole before spreading him open. Fitz hummed around him and he cried out clenching his thighs and using every ounce of self-control he had to stay where Fitz had put him.

Then one thumb pressed into him and he trembled. It was an easy, shallow thrust, not even close to enough to what he needed. Then it slid out and the other one slid in, just the same teasing stroke. Fitz alternating like that until Ward's breath was keening in the back of his throat.

Fitz pulled off and pushed both his thumbs in at once, stretching Ward wide with a sweet pull.

"So fucking beautiful, Grant. You should see how you look." Fitz's glazed eyes roved over him and he had to swallow, pushing his legs out a little more to open himself further. Wanting to show Fitz everything. Offer him everything.

"Are your nipples sensitive?"

Unable to speak, Ward nodded.

"Good. Touch them. Show me. Show me what you like."

He pulled his hands out from behind his head and rubbed his fingers over his chest, finger tips catching on the sensitive nubs, back and forth.

Fitz's thumbs still thrust slightly, still too shallow but driving Ward mad with the need for more sensation.

He pinched his left nipple, hard and cried out. Then he pinched the right one. Before soothing them both with gentle strokes.

Fitz watched, lip caught between his teeth and Ward wanted to give him more. Give them both more. He twisted both nipples hard, pinching and squeezing, eyes falling closed at the intensity.

"Open your eyes. Put your hands behind your head."

He obeyed immediately, heart pounding with fear that he'd over-stepped, that he'd done something wrong.

But Fitz was still looking at him with that same mix of need and awe and Ward knew the sharp tone came from the same desperation he was feeling.

Fitz's thumbs slipped out of him and the emptiness was shocking. But Fitz was already fumbling with the lube, adding more to his hand.

Then two fingers drifted back and forth over his twitching hole, another slow maddening tease that had him biting his cheek to keep from begging.

But Fitz wasn't letting him get away with that.

"What do you want, Ward?"

"Claim me," he gritted out, around the panting need.

"How?"

"Fuck me. Please." He risked shifting his ass a little, hoping to get closer to the tormenting fingers, to entice Fitz into giving him what he needed.

"Fuck you? Like this?"

He thrust the two fingers into Ward, pushing in with a slight burn, twisting and stretching him. It felt good. So fucking good.

"You want me to fuck you with my fingers, Ward?"

"Yes." He wanted it. But it wasn't all he wanted. He didn't know what the right answer was. All he knew was the fingers weren't deep enough. Weren't thick enough. "No."

"C'mon, Ward. Which is it? You don't hide your body from me. Don't hide this. Tell me what you want? How you want it?"

Ward felt like his soul was stripped bare, pressed wide open and on display the same way his body was splayed out. Fitz wanted to give him what he wanted. But he had to ask for it. He had to give Fitz everything to get it in return.

"Fuck me. With your cock. Want your dick in me so bad." He could stop there, he knew. But he wanted to lay himself out. Wanted to risk it all and give Fitz his deepest secret needs. "From behind. Teeth in my neck. Claim me. Please. Fuck me. Make me come again without touching my cock."

"Holy fuck," Fitz sat back, eyes wide and hand pressed hard against his own erection. His fingers slipped out of Ward while he gasped for breath.

When he got control back, he squared his shoulders, and barked out commands.

"On your knees. Hands on the headboard."

Ward jumped to obey, knuckles white form gripping the headboard so hard in anticipation.

"Spread you legs." He shifted his knees out but Fitz tapped his thigh. "Wider."

He had to shift his weight forward to keep his balance and put his ass on obscene display before Fitz was satisfied.

He waited, muscles locked to keep from squirming in the silence while he listened to the soft sound of Fitz putting on the condom. Then firm hands stroked over him from shoulders to ass, thumbs once again slipping between his cheeks and pulling him open. He pushed back into the touch.

"You like this, don't you, Grant? Being wide open and eager for me."

He shivered and Fitz pressed against his back, hands sliding away from his ass to grip his hips and mouth pressed against the shell of his ear to demand an answer. "Don't you, Grant?"

"Yes," he choked out around the tight need thickening his throat.

"Good boy," Fitz murmured and bit down on the sensitive edge of his ear.

Then something nudged at his hole. Just the tip slid into his entrance, burning and stretching and feeling so good and still not fucking enough.

"Is this what you wanted, Grant? Me inside of you?"

"Yes. Please. More."

Fitz tilted his hips, giving him a little more. It felt amazing. But he wanted to be full, surrounded, claimed. He wanted to feel it for days.

With a groan, he tipped his head back, resting it against Fitz's shoulder.

Fitz licked a wet, obscene trail up his neck. Breathing hot and amused against his skin. "More, Grant?"

"Yes," he shouted. "All of it. All of you. Make me yours. Wanna' be yours."

Fitz pushed forward, sliding in deep and hard. Ward groaned at the sudden, deep intrusion. It ached in the most amazing way.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you."

Fitz's fingers curled tight around his hips, biting in and hopefully leaving bruises.

"So good, Grant. You're so good for me."

Then he pulled out and pushed in hard again, setting a brutal, beautiful pace that kept Ward gasping and off kilter. He shifted once and the pulse of pleasure made him scream, and then Fitz was pushing against the spot over and over and over until he was afraid he would shake apart.

"I'm close. Please. Can I… can…"

Lips pressed against his throat, and Fitz spoke into his skin.

"Told you before. You don't have to wait for permission. Show me. Show me how good I make you feel."

 His lips slid down to the vulnerable spot where throat met shoulder and sank his teeth, sharp and tight into the skin.

Ward broke, hips snapping back, greedy to have Fitz buried deep when the orgasm slammed through him.

The teeth tightened, biting hard through the aftershocks that rocked Ward, leaving him shuddering and spent. Then Fitz pushed him forward without letting go, thrusting deep, hard and unmerciful once, twice and the third time he froze, shaking as Ward felt the hot spurts of the condom filling inside him.

His brain, fuzzy and wandering, wished the come was in him. That he could continue to be filled with Fitz, even now that Fitz was pulling out of him.

Fitz let go of him and he whined. He looked back over his shoulder and watched Fitz take care of the condom, tossing it into the basket by the bed. Then he reached down, picked up his discarded t-shirt and wiped both them and the headboard off. Finally, he slipped his hands over Ward's, still clenched on the headboard, and pried them off, manhandling him until they were cuddling on the bed.

"Okay, Grant?" The pleasure had dulled in Fitz's eyes and worry was creeping in.

Ward didn't want that so he blinked away the haze and forced his brain and his tongue to form words.

"Better than." He brought his hand up close to Fitz's jaw then hesitated. Still a little unsure if his touch was welcome. But Fitz twisted, pressing his cheek into the touch into before leaning up to drop a quick kiss on Ward's lips.

"Good."

They stayed locked together for a while, nearly dozing off before Fitz jerked and sat up.

"Fitz?" he asked groggily, starting to follow.

"It's fine, I just forgot… wait here. Don't move."

Ward blinked and watched Fitz as scrambled off the bed and rummaged in the case. He tucked something behind his back before returning to sit next to Ward.

"I, uh, have something. But you don't have to… It was just a thought. If you don't like it, say so."

He pulled his hand out from behind him. A single metal cuff, about half the width of the old ones, lay in Fitz's palm.

"It's not like the other one," Fitz explained quickly, before Ward could even form a question. "There's no pain. No alarm. There is GPS, but you'd have to activate it, if you needed help. It just locks on, like the other ones. Only you and I could unlock it."

Ward brushed his thumb over the cold metal. He'd told Fitz he'd miss the symbol of belonging to him and Fitz had brought Ward this.

"Did you make this while I was showering?"

He shrugged. "I had most of the components left over from making the other ones."

He picked it up and read the inscription, raising an eyebrow. " _Property of Leo Fitz_."

"Only if you want."

He wanted. Pretty much the only thing he'd thought about for the past few hours was how much he wanted to belong to Fitz.

"Put it on."

Once it was locked in place, Ward leaned forward, pressing his lips against Fitz's, initiating a kiss for the first time. Fitz opened to his tongue, sinking into Ward's embrace.

Maybe they belonged to each other.

**Author's Note:**

> So during the last episode of season one, Ward was practically begging Garrett for orders. Then when Garrett finally gave him an order, he said thank you. I couldn't stop thinking about that scene and what it could mean and this is the result. I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm really, really not ;)


End file.
